


Somewhere in the Background

by Q_loves_you



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Covers 7th year, Multi, so it's going to get dark and graphic and whatnot in places
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 53,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Q_loves_you/pseuds/Q_loves_you
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of Harry's classmates throughout the years, based on my (currently) 23+ pages of headcanons about them</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Train

Dean was terrified. There were so many people everywhere he looked, and he didn’t know any of them, and he was about to go and live with them for a year, and he did not know how to deal with this. He looked up at his mother. She was also looking nervous, but she managed a smile for him.

“It’ll be fine, Dean. You can write to me any time you need. You’ll make plenty of friends, and just think about it. You’re going to a school for magic. You’ll have so much fun. Ok?”

Dean nodded. “Ok.”

“Now, let’s get your trunk up onto the train, shall we?”

It took some doing, but at last, Dean’s trunk was stored in the luggage compartment. The whistle blew. Dean hugged his mother. Her eyes were wet, but she was determinedly not crying, most likely for his sake. They said their goodbyes, and Dean began searching for an empty compartment.

He hadn’t gone far before he heard something crash up ahead. He found a boy about his age with sandy hair sitting on the floor next to his trunk, which looked like it had just fallen.

“Do you want some help with that?” he offered shyly. The boy looked up.

“I can do it meself, thanks,” he said as if the very idea were offensive to him. Dean looked at the trunk doubtfully. The boy heaved it upwards. Dean was impressed that he could lift it at all. Then it came crashing down again, landing on the boy’s foot. He cursed. “…Fine. I could use a hand, yeah.”

With Dean’s help and a few more swears from the other boy, the trunk was stowed safely away.

“I’m Seamus. What’s your name?” The boy stuck out his hand. Dean shook it.

“Dean Thomas. Why were you trying to get your trunk up there on your own?”

Seamus rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Mam and I were late. I told her to go before the train left with her on it.”

“Do you…want to go find a compartment or…?”

“Sure. I think I saw an empty one back there.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and they walked off together. They found a compartment that appeared at first glance to be empty, but on closer inspection, they found that there was one occupant: a small, blond, somewhat scruffy-looking boy who looked up as they entered.

“Do you mind if we sit down?” Seamus asked. “I don’t think there are any empty places left.”

“Sure,” the boy said. He shrugged.

“I’m Seamus, and this is Dean,” Seamus introduced them, “Who are you?”

“Wayne Hopkins. Are you first years too?”

“Yes,” Dean said. Seamus nodded.

“Do either of you think you know what house you’ll be in?” Wayne asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Well nobody really knows until they get there, do they?” Seamus said. “But I’d guess Gryffindor for me. What about you, Dean?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t really know anything about them.”

“Oh, your parents are Muggles?” Wayne asked curiously

“Yeah.”

“Wow, this must be really scary,” Seamus said, “But don’t worry. Stick with me, and you’ll be fine.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Says the boy who dropped his trunk on his foot because he was too stubborn to get help.”

Seamus shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect.”

 

Lavender Brown was not a shy person. She enjoyed meeting new people, and talking was fun for her. But even she had to admit that this was overwhelming. They had been running late that morning, and every compartment seemed to be full now. The train was moving. She had to find somewhere to sit. So she gathered her courage and slid open the next door.

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Not at all,” one of the girls in the compartment said. Lavender sat down gratefully. There were three people in the compartment, a pair of twin girls and a boy.

“I’m Parvati,” said second twin, “And this is my sister Padma.”

“I’m Julian,” the boy offered.

“Lavender. Nice to meet you all. What year are you?”

“First,” Padma said. Julian nodded.

“Me too,” Lavender said happily, “I’m so excited. My mum’s been telling me all kinds of stories. There was one time…”

 

Theodore Nott was not overly fond of people. But this Blaise Zabini person seemed alright. As did Miss Moon. Neither of them seemed unintelligent or anything. He could even see himself becoming friends with Blaise in the future. He was glad he had chosen this compartment. He hoped they would be sorted into Slytherin with him.

 

Pansy really just wanted her sister to leave. Dana was far too over-protective sometimes. Pansy knew she meant well and all, but it was annoying. Pansy wanted to talk to her new friend, not her old sister. Millicent watched Pansy growing steadily more irritated until Dana left.

“Sorry. She’s so bossy. It’s like she thinks I can’t do anything myself.”

“It’s fine,” Millicent said, “I wish I had an older sister.”

“Well you don’t wish you had four siblings, let me tell you that now.”

 

Kevin returned to the compartment after searching every place he could think of for Neville’s toad. Sophie was there too, looking under the seats.

“Find him?” she asked, straightening up.

“No. Sounds like he loses him a lot though, and he always turns up again. I’m sure it’ll work out.”

“Yeah, probably.” Sophie flopped back into her seat with an exhausted sigh. “I had to wake up at about 6:00 in the morning. I’ve been sleeping in until at least 8:00 all summer.”

“I was up early too. Mostly I just couldn’t sleep. Too excited. I mean, I’m going to a school of magic. Who could sleep the night before that?”

“Me.”

 

Quisilla Rivers liked England so far. The weather was warmer than it had been in Russia, and she quite liked that. The people she was sitting with seemed nice. Michael Corner and Mandy Brocklehurst were first years like she was. Mandy was cheerful and friendly. Michael was a bit over-confident, she thought, but still, he seemed okay. Perhaps they could be friends. She knew from her father that houses meant a lot though. If they were in different houses, that might be difficult.

Both Michael and Mandy seemed fascinated to learn that she was from Russia. They bombarded her with questions about what it was like to grow up there. She did her best to answer, but frankly, her English was only so good.

Her new acquaintances didn’t seem to mind though. They made pleasant conversation as they sped through fields of sheep and cows.

 

Sally-Anne didn’t like silence. The two boys she was sitting with, it seemed, didn’t mind it at all. They had chatted for a bit at first, introduced themselves, and acknowledged that they were all excited. Now one boy (Anthony; she had a good memory for names) was reading, and Zacharias, the other boy, was staring out the window. She shifted a bit.

“So,” she started. The two boys looked at her. “What houses do you think you’ll be in?”

“Probably Ravenclaw,” Anthony said, “But I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up somewhere else.”

Zacharias shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“I’ll probably be in Hufflepuff,” Sally-Anne said, “Mum was, and I’ve been told I’m a lot like her.”

Anthony nodded. “Hufflepuff’s a good house. I’m sure we’ll all do well wherever we are though.” And with that, he returned to his book.

“My father was in Slytherin,” Zacharias told Sally-Anne, “But I think I’d rather not be. It’s got a bit of a dark reputation, you know? That’s not something I want to be associated with.”

Sally-Anne nodded. “I suppose, but they can’t be all bad, can they?” Zacharias shrugged.

 

Tracey decided that these people were okay. She wasn’t likely to become friends with them, she thought, but they were perfectly fine company for one train ride. They were smart at least. The lighter-haired of the two boys…Terry, she thought he had said his name was, was talking a lot about classes. The other boy, Stephen, and the girl, Su, seemed interested as well. Those three were probably going to stay friends, she thought. She wasn’t so sure about herself though. Making friends had never really been her forte.

 

Lisa glanced at the girl sitting across from her curiously. They had exchanged names, Morag and Lisa, and determined that they were both first years. She looked like she was desperately trying to find something of interest to say. Lisa waited a few moments before deciding she couldn’t just let the poor girl suffer.

“What classes are you excited for?” she asked. Morag smiled.

“I can’t wait for Potions, though I’ve heard Professor Snape is…difficult.”

“Who told you that?”  
“My brother, Will. What classes are you excited for?”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Lisa said immediately. “I’ve been training in self-defense for years now, but I can’t wait to learn the magical side of it.”

“Wow, you mean you know, like, Muggle dueling or something?”

Lisa nodded eagerly. “My mum says it’s not lady-like or some rubbish, but I love it. And my brother always told me I could do whatever I wanted. He’ll probably stop by sometime today. You can meet him!”

 

Megan had never in her life felt insecure about being a farm girl. In fact, it was a source of great pride for her. But sitting with these two clearly upper-class boys was making her doubt herself. She didn’t care for the feeling at all.

“Where are you from, Megan?” Justin asked her.

“Denbighshire,” she told them proudly, “My family’s owned a farm there for generations.”

“That sounds lovely,” Justin said earnestly, “Is there a high wizarding population in Denbighshire?”

“Not terribly. What about where you are?”

Justin laughed. “I have no idea. I only found out about magic a few months ago when I got my letter. I had a terrible time convincing my mother to let me go here instead of Eton.”

Ernie chimed in then. Megan had noticed that he talked a lot. “Well, Hogwarts is the best school of wizardry you’ll find anywhere,” he said proudly, as if he were personally responsible for the school’s greatness. “I’m sure you’ll learn plenty to keep her satisfied.”

 

Hannah and Susan sat fairly close to each other, despite not having known each other very long. The alternative was to get closer to one of the other girls sharing their compartment, and as much as they didn’t want to be rude or exclusive…she looked downright scary. She had told them her name was Lucy Runcorn and then buried her face in a book. She glanced over the top of it occasionally, but her expression remained stoic throughout the journey. She purchased several chocolate frogs and a pumpkin pasty when the trolley came around, but did not partake in their conversation unless the other girl, Daphne, asked her a question directly.

Hannah thought Daphne seemed a bit scary as well, but better at hiding it. She was polite at least, and charismatic too. She wasn’t as friendly as Susan by any means, but she was alright. Hannah smiled slightly to herself. She would survive.


	2. Houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a list of who is in which house so future chapters are less confusing and I can just jump right in

Gryffindor:  
Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil

Hufflepuff:  
Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Zacharias Smith, Wayne Hopkins, Julian Spinks, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Sophie Roper, Sally-Anne Perks, Megan Jones, Linda Moon

Ravenclaw:  
Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, Stephen Cornfoot, Kevin Entwhistle, Padma Patil, Su Li, Morag MacDougal, Mandy Brocklehurst, Lisa Turpin

Slytherin:  
Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, Lucy Runcorn, Quisilla Rivers, Tracey Davis


	3. Stephen's 7 Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Highlights of Stephen Cornfoot's seven years at Hogwarts

Stephen Cornfoot was determined to become friends with Kevin Entwhistle. This was partly because Kevin seemed like a nice, interesting person. It was also partly because he wanted a close friend in his dormitory and it was obvious that the other three boys were already forming a strong bond. But if he was honest with himself, a large part of the reason he wanted to be friends with Kevin was because Kevin was Muggle-born, and Muggles were fascinating because they had science. So at breakfast on their first day, Stephen sat down across from Kevin, and contrary to his usually shy nature, began the conversation.

“So, you went to a Muggle school right?” he asked.

Kevin nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“What did you learn there?”

“Er…reading, writing, maths, the usual stuff.”

“Did you learn any sciences? I’ve always wanted to study Muggle science, but my parents couldn’t enroll me in a Muggle school, obviously, and you can only learn so much from books, right? But it’s fascinating stuff. Muggles know so many things wizards don’t even think about.”

Kevin blinked. “I learned some of that, yeah. But doesn’t the whole existence of magic sort of make science null? The whole point is that magic breaks the rules.”

Stephen shrugged. “Still, though, it would be good to know what rules you were breaking. And some rules even magic can’t break.”  
***

That was how it started. Their first weekend, Stephen went to the library and asked the librarian (who was terrifying and everything, but if it was for the pursuit of science, Stephen could do anything) if there were any books on science. Madam Pince led him to a small corner of the library where there were a few shelves of books on biology, physics, chemistry, and the like. Stephen thanked her and started reading. He made it through all of the introductory books before Christmas, and by the end of second year, he had read everything the Hogwarts library had on science. It wasn’t much. Stephen complained about the lack of non-magical education wizards got to Lisa. She was sympathetic to his cause, though less interested in science and more interested in anything else.

In second year, Stephen created a Muggle Studies Club dedicated to learning things like biology, engineering, Muggle history, Muggle literature, and maths. It wasn’t a very popular club, and it was mostly populated by Ravenclaws, with a smattering of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. Most people came only to a few meetings. They were interested but didn’t have time to add another whole set of lessons to their schedules. Stephen, Lisa, Hermione Granger, Su Li, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Linda Moon were regulars. Every once in a while, a Slytherin would show up looking curious but hesitant. They usually didn’t come back for a second meeting.  
***

In Stephen's third year, his sister Abigail was sorted into Gryffindor. He spent a large part of the year worrying about her. When Sirius Black slashed the Fat Lady's portrait, Lisa and Kevin had a hell of a time keeping Stephen from panicking. As soon as they arrived in the Great Hall, Stephen set off in search of her. He found her fairly quickly and hugged her so tightly she had to pull away for air.

"Stephen, I'm fine. Stop worrying so much!" she complained.

"I'm your brother. It's my job to worry about you."

"Well, that's stupid. You're a Ravenclaw; aren't you supposed to be the smart one?"

"You're in the house of the stupidly brave, Abbie. It's smart to worry."  
***

Stephen thought he was usually good at being honest with himself about his feelings. Kevin seemed to think otherwise.

“Stephen, just ask her out already will you? It’s obvious how much you like her, and I’m pretty sure she likes you too.”

Stephen groaned and let his head fall forward onto his book. “She’s my best friend, Kevin, not my girlfriend.”

“Not yet,” Kevin muttered.

“The point is I don’t feel that way about her. At all. Lisa is great, but she’s not girlfriend material. For me.”

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever heard. Ask her to the Yule Ball, go on.”

“But you and I are already going as friends. Wouldn’t that be a little bit awkward?” Stephen asked hopefully.

“No, not really. I can go on my own. Or who knows? Maybe Corner’s still available and we can go together and then sneak off for scandalous make-out sessions. We’d be the hottest couple there.”

“Fleur and Davies are going together. So are Diggory and Chang. I think they’ve got you beat,” Stephen mused, "Plus I hear Mike's going with Sally-Anne Perks."

“Whatever. The point is that you should ask Lisa to go with you. And if you don’t, Morag and I will start scheming.”  
***

Stephen loved Kevin and Morag. Really, he did. But he also wanted to strangle them.

“So…” he said.

“Yeah,” Lisa agreed. They stood there awkwardly in the cold outside Madam Puddifoot’s.

“We appear to have been set up on a date. By those lying scumbags we call friends.”

Lisa nodded. “So it would seem. Though, we really should have anticipated it. I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out.” Stephen shrugged. “Hogsmeade visit on Valentine’s Day? Meet us at this café, it’s super cute? No, not suspicious at all.”

“Well…do you want to get some coffee anyway?” Stephen asked carefully.

Lisa grinned. “I thought you’d never ask. Clearly Kevin and Morag didn’t either,” Lisa said mockingly, poking him in the chest.

“Well, they obviously lacked faith in your asking me out too,” he replied.

Lisa put a hand over her heart dramatically. “I’m very offended at the suggestion! As if I would never ask you out!”

“Yeah – wait, did you-”

And suddenly Lisa’s lips were on his. It was cold, and his lips were chapped, and she tasted like licorice and caramel, which were great individually but not so great together. But it was Lisa, and they were kissing, so it was therefore perfect. They broke apart after a few moments.

“Do you want to…” Lisa gestured towards the door and the light and warmth inside. Stephen nodded.

 

“Yes!” Kevin and Morag high-fived and left their hiding place to go get a celebratory butterbeer.  
***

Stephen’s mother wanted him to come home early, but Stephen refused. He respected Professor Dumbledore, and he wanted to be there for the funeral. Most of his classmates were staying too. Padma was gone, and Terry’s parents insisted he leave with them. But the rest of them remained.

The train ride back was less enjoyable than it usually was. They all knew they were headed into difficult times. He had never seen Kevin look so subdued. They said their goodbyes on the platform. He hugged Kevin, Morag, and Su. He and Lisa shared a goodbye kiss. Then they were gone.  
***

In his seventh year, Stephen joined Dumbledore’s Army alongside Lisa, Mandy, Morag, and Su. He may not have been the best at dueling, but he figured he could still be useful for something. He was right.

“Look, all I’m saying is that they have the means to test our wands. Any spells we use have to be inconspicuous, and any spell we use to blow it up will be incredibly conspicuous,” Padma said impatiently.

“So we don’t blow it up with magic,” Stephen said. All heads turned to him.

“What?”

Stephen rolled his eyes. Lisa looked at him proudly. “We can blow it up without magic. I know how to do it.”


	4. Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy's perspective on Pansy, Daphne, and the Slytherin common room

Arguments were not unusual in the Slytherin common room. Put a lot of ambitious, often radical children and teenagers in one living space, and you get arguments. Sometimes even fights.

The most common perpetrators in the third year were Pansy and Daphne. It had been that way since their very first day. Both girls wanted to lead everything. Arguments between the two of them escalated quickly and could last anywhere from five minutes to five weeks. But Daphne was an older sister. She had mastered manipulation long before Pansy had even thought of it. So, though Pansy always seemed to be in charge, it was apparent to those who knew them well that Daphne was the one with real control.

The screaming was annoying though. Lucy Runcorn did not like screaming, particularly while she was trying to study. She had lost track of the argument itself about half an hour ago, and was now only registering Pansy’s particularly irksome shrieking. She slammed her book shut and turned to face them.

“Pansy, shut the fuck up, will you? Your voice sounds like a banshee with a stick up its ass,” she snapped.

Both girls turned to her furiously.

“Don’t you dare say anything like that about Pansy again,” Daphne said coldly. “If you have a problem, move. Don’t go insulting my friend because you procrastinated on studying.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows. “Maybe you two should move so you don’t deafen the entire common room. Why are you defending her anyway? You were screaming at her five seconds ago. You hate each other.”

Daphne scoffed. “We do not hate each other. And only I get to yell at her.”

“Then go yell at her somewhere else,” Lucy said irritably, opening up her book again.

“Only if you apologize,” Daphne demanded.

“Fuck off.”

Pansy grabbed Lucy’s arm. “What did you just say to-”

Lucy grabbed Pansy’s wrist hard enough that Pansy stopped talking. “Don’t ever touch me. I laugh along with your jokes and go along with your schemes because I find them entertaining. But if either of you ever touches me without my permission again, I will not hesitate to curse you.”

“If you curse either of us, the other is going to get you back,” Daphne told her.

“Well then, let’s all hope you don’t touch me. I’m going to the library. Enjoy your argument.” She picked up her books and stalked away.

“It is inconsiderate of us to fight in the common room,” Daphne admitted quietly. “We should move.”

“Who cares-”

“Remember what we said about being polite to people sometimes?”

Pansy huffed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Lucy returned to the common room a minute after they left and sunk back into her chair with a soft sigh of contentment. Peace at last.

“Malfoy, shut up about Potter for five minutes, will you? God, the amount you complain about him, you’d think you were in love with him.”

“What!? Davis, you can’t-”

Lucy groaned.


	5. Hufflepuffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exploration of the Hufflepuffs and some of their relationships, super sweet and fluffy

It was a cold, snowy weekend in January of their fourth year. Most of the Hufflepuffs had finished or nearly finished their homework. Sophie decided that this called for a snowball fight. Sally-Anne was eager to go, and the rest were willing at least on some level, so they all bundled up in their cloaks, scarves, hats, and gloves, and headed out the front door chatting amiably.

“ALRIGHT!” Sophie shouted once they were a good distance from the castle. “The last team standing wins! Megan and I will be team captains because I just said so!”

“What?” Megan spluttered as she was dragged forward.

“I choose Sally-Anne!”

“Er…Wayne!”

Wayne walked over to his best friend looking slightly offended. “What do you mean ‘er’?”

The teams ended up with Sophie, Sally-Anne, Justin, Ernie, and Hannah versus Megan, Wayne, Zacharias, Julian, and Susan with Linda refereeing. Linda wasn’t entirely sure what there was to referee because Hufflepuff snowball fights had no rules and generally resulted in all-out anarchy, but she was happy to have the title anyway. There was a much lower chance of her getting hit. She gave the signal for the game to begin and ran to get out of the way.

It was generally agreed that Sophie’s team won. They traipsed back up to the castle, exhausted and cheerful. When they reached the common room, Wayne and Megan volunteered to fetch some hot chocolate from the kitchens.

“Wayne Hopkins!” Wayne smiled down at the elf who greeted him, “So nice to see you again, sir! And Miss Jones too!”

“Hi, Dobby. Could we get eleven hot chocolates?” Wayne asked. The house elves nearest them nodded and scurried off. “We just had a big snowball fight,” Wayne explained while they waited. “Our team lost, but it was still fun. Except Justin hit me in the face.”

Megan laughed. “He did apologize for about ten minutes after,” she said. Wayne nodded.

“Eleven hot chocolates!” said an elf, presenting two trays of steamy chocolatey goodness.

“Thanks so much,” Wayne said, “We’d better get these back. See you!”

They left to a chorus of squeaky goodbyes.

“You come here often, do you?” Megan said as they walked back to the common room.

“You know I do.”

“You’re politer to house elves than I think I’ve ever seen you be with a human,” she remarked playfully. He laughed.

“Well, house elves are politer to me. I respond to that.”

“How come we’re friends then?” Megan teased. “I’m plenty rude to you.”

“Our friendship is based on many things, Megs, but politeness is not one of them.”

“I told you not to call me that!”

***

“Sophiiiiiiiieeeeeeee, I don’t get iiiit,” Sally-Anne whined, leaning across the table and trying to look as pathetic as possible. Sophie sighed. They had been studying in the library for all of ten minutes, and Sally-Anne was already bored.

“What don’t you get?”

“Anything. Can we take a break? I’m bored. Why did we take Ancient Runes? We should have taken something fun like Divination.”

“Sally-Anne Perks, we are not taking a break. We’ve only been studying for ten minutes. You are going to remember all of these runes, and you are going to ‘get’ everything you need to for the exam,” Sophie said sternly. “And we didn’t take Divination because it’s a stupid subject.”

Sally-Anne grumbled, but returned to her books obediently. Sophie looked up at her best friends unhappy face. She sighed again. “If you learn everything you need to know, I’ll do some dance practice with you, okay?”

Sally-Anne’s face lit up. “Yes!”

“Shhh! Do you want to get kicked out?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

***

Julian and Zacharias were a strange pair. Zacharias was blunt, cynical, and not very likeable. Julian was cheerful, positive, and generally agreed to be a lovely person. Somehow, the two of them had bonded. When questioned, Julian laughed and said, “I think I’m the only optimist Zach could ever stand, and he needs one in his life. And he’s not bad once you get to know him. He’s just a bit prickly at first. But he cares a lot more than he’d ever let on.” At which point, Zacharias would drag Julian away.

Zacharias, when asked about his friendship with Julian, shrugged and said, “He’s a good person. I enjoy his company. I admire his idealism.”

And that was all there was to it, really.

***

Justin, Ernie, Hannah, and Susan were friends by the end of the welcoming feast. Justin was polite and friendly, Ernie was outspoken, pompous, and overall good-natured, Hannah was sweet and shy, and Susan was cheerful and exuberant. They all complemented each other extraordinarily well.

Ernie looked up to Justin, though he hated to admit it. Justin was upper-class without being overbearing or pompous, and Ernie admired that. It was something he had never quite figured out how to do. Justin loved Ernie. He admired Ernie’s knowledge of the wizarding world, and he knew that Ernie was protective and a good leader.

Justin also thought the world of Hannah and Susan. He loved how Hannah always had something kind to say about anyone, and how Susan encouraged them all to push the limits of their comfort zone and their abilities. Hannah loved that Justin never made hasty judgments on people and that he was always polite. She loved how Ernie always tried so hard to be better than he had been the day before, and how he always looked after others before himself. She loved how Susan pushed her to talk to people, to do things she enjoyed, and to step into the spotlight once in a while.

Ernie thought Hannah and Susan were wonderful, Hannah because of her intuitive sense and ability to always believe the best of people, and Susan because of her relentless positive energy. Susan thought Ernie was funny and loved that he looked out for them, but also that he respected their abilities to look after themselves. She thought Justin was the most honorable, selfless person ever, unless perhaps it was Hannah, who loved so much and so easily.

The only actual, honest-to-god argument they ever had happened in third year. Susan got impatient with Hannah when she couldn’t understand their Transfiguration homework, and she hadn’t been as good at hiding it as she should have been. One little eye-roll had been all it took. Hannah was at breaking point with stress, and Susan was full of angry energy about some stupid fight her parents were having. Hannah left in tears, and Susan ended up breaking a few chairs. The two of them didn’t speak for a week. Ernie and Justin were at a loss for what to do. Finally, they called in the closest thing to an expert they could find. Megan and Wayne took offense at first, but ultimately agreed. The girls’ dormitory had been tense all week, and no one liked seeing Hannah and Susan fight. So, the two of them dragged the girls together and sat them down for a good talk.

“Hannah, Susan, this is ridiculous. You’re best friends. Make up,” Wayne said firmly.

Hannah crossed her arms and sunk into her seat. “If Susan can’t deal with the fact that I’m stupid, she has no business being my friend,” she grumbled angrily. Susan looked hurt.

“Hannah, I don’t think you’re stupid. And you told me I was a pushy, obnoxious know-it-all.”  
“Well, you were acting like one.”

“Okay!” Megan interrupted before Susan could interrupt. “This is dumb. Hannah, Susan doesn’t think you’re stupid. She’s frustrated because of unrelated problems – which, no, Wayne I’m not telling you about – and she has no way to vent the frustration because she hates being anything other than positive. Susan, find a way to vent better. Hannah doesn’t hate you; she’s hurt because she’s insecure and you touched an already very frazzled nerve when you got frustrated with her. Done? Done. Now hug.” Megan pulled out her wand. “I am not above using force.”

Hannah peeked at Susan from under her fringe. “You don’t think I’m stupid.”

“Of course I don’t. Sorry I got angry.”

“Sorry I overreacted.” The two girls embraced.

Megan stood up and dusted off her robes. “Our work here is done. Let’s go play some Exploding Snap.”

***

Linda Moon wouldn’t say she was lonely necessarily. She had friends. She counted Justin, Ernie, Hannah, Susan, Zacharias, Julian, Wayne, Megan, Sally-Anne, Sophie, Hermione, and Daphne as friends by her fourth year. The problem was that none of them were close friends. Not that that was really a problem. She had her sister Louise. Louise was close. Then in Linda’s sixth year, Louise started to shut her out. Linda couldn’t understand it. She tried to talk to Louise, but she wouldn’t listen. After yet another argument in November, Hannah found Linda crying in the dorm.

“Linda? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What’s happened? Do you want me to get somebody?” Hannah was clearly working towards a panic. Linda shook her head.

“No. I-it’s my sister. She – she’s pulling away. She won’t talk to me, and I don’t know why. She’s my sister. She’s my best friend. I don’t…”

Hannah sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Its okay. She’ll come ‘round. She’s in fourth year, right? That’s a rough time. She just needs to adjust.” Linda nodded shakily. Hannah smiled. “How about a girls’ night kind of thing to take your mind off it? I’m pretty sure Susan’s wanted to braid your hair for ages.” Linda hesitated. “It’ll be fun, and besides you work too much. Relaxing is good for you.”

“Okay.”

“Good! I’ll let the others know. You wash up if you don’t want them to know you were crying, or don’t if you don’t mind them knowing. They won’t tease you, but I know it can be embarrassing anyway.”

Hannah scurried off. 

 

Sophie wasn’t sure at first if she should go to a girls’ night, but the others rolled their eyes and told her it was an ‘entire female-ish spectrums’ night, so there.’ She laughed as Susan braided her short brown hair into several tiny plaits that would leave her hair curly when she took them out. It would look terrible, but the point was to cheer up Linda, so it was worth it.

Susan moved on to Linda’s thick, curly dark hair. “God, your hair is so perfect for braiding,” Susan gushed. “This is going to look beautiful.” Linda smiled. She did have friends, and she was not lonely.


	6. Lucy Runcorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several scenes from the life of Lucy Runcorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little different now that we have some established characters. Getting deeper. And more serious.

Lucy Runcorn and Quisilla Rivers were the strangest pair of friends most people had ever seen. Quisilla was timid and soft whereas Lucy was, in a word, terrifying. Most people were wary of Lucy, not only because she constantly gave off an aura of intense animosity, but also because nobody seemed to be sure of what she wanted. She laughed at Pansy’s jokes and followed her and Daphne, so she clearly didn’t want to lead anyone. She did not confide in anyone about her career goals or personal goals, unless it was Quisilla, and Quisilla wouldn’t tell anybody.

Lucy scoffed when people (Malfoy) tried to bribe her with money, glared when they threatened her, and looked at them scornfully when they attempted to flatter her. Yet, she was rarely actively disagreeable. She did what she wanted to do, and it often coincided nicely with what others wanted. If not, it was impossible to get her to move.  
***

Lucy was not a happy child. Her father was a dick, something she realized very early in life when he grounded her because her accidental magic turned his dress robes pink. She was six. Her mother, on the other hand, was the most magnificent being in all of creation. She was kind, she loved Lucy, and she was an excellent confidant and source of comfort. Her only flaw in Lucy’s eyes was that she refused to leave her husband. Lucy did not understand it properly until she was ten years old. Her mother was financially, emotionally, and socially dependent on her father. And so she stayed. Lucy hated him.

So when people asked her what she wanted, she did not respond. She would not ask for anything. She loved her mother, but she would die before she would become like her.  
***

Lucy did not think that her first interaction with Quisilla was a positive one. Quisilla was having difficulty in potions due to her shoddy grasp of the English language and a general lack of aptitude for the subject. Lucy grew frustrated.

“Crush them first, dumbass,” Lucy whispered. Quisilla looked up at her gratefully.

“Thank you.”

From that time on, Lucy found that Quisilla gravitated towards her. She didn’t mind exactly. Quisilla was nice enough if a bit dim. They ate together, studied together, and walked to classes together. Lucy soon found herself actually enjoying Quisilla’s company rather than merely tolerating it. The apparent dimness was actually hiding an intuitive grasp of human psychology and a strong sense of self-preservation based mostly on staying out of the way.

For three years, Lucy and Quisilla remained casual friends. Then, in fourth year, some fifth year prick had the audacity to call Lucy a bitch just because she scowled at him for hitting on Quisilla. Both girls drew their wands so fast the boy never had a chance. He ended up in the hospital wing, and they ended up in detention. From that day forth they were not casual friends. They were essentially sisters.  
***

Lucy was not nervous. She didn’t do nervous. She was Lucy Runcorn, and she was tougher than steel and stronger than iron and of course she was nervous how could she not be. She hadn’t gotten a letter from Quisilla for six days now. Usually Quisilla wrote about every other day during the summers. But Lucy was sure there was no need to worry. She would know if something bad had happened. She paced her bedroom angrily, occasionally glancing out the window to glare at the moon. She was not nervous. There was a soft tap. She jumped.

An owl stood on the window sill, waiting to come in. She ran to open the window and took the letter. The owl allowed her to stroke its back once before flying away again. Lucy ripped open the envelope addressed to her in Quisilla’s blocky handwriting.

Dear Lucy,

I’m sorry this letter is late. I know you worry – don’t deny it. I’m afraid I have some bad news. I know I mentioned in my last letter that my mother was getting scared because of the war. In light of the recent attacks on Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance, she decided that it would be best for us to move back to Russia until this war ends. My father agreed. I’m moving.

I know this is sudden, and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. I’ve spent so much time packing that I simply haven’t been able to sit down and write. But everything is ready for the move now. We leave tomorrow. By the time you get this, I’ll probably be settling in to my new home in Russia. I asked my mother if we could go and visit you again before we left, but she said we didn’t have the time. I don’t know if that was the real reason, but she was more stubborn than I’ve ever seen her.

Don’t worry about me, Lucy. I think I’ll enjoy getting an education in my first language for a change, and I’ll be safer there. I will miss you, and I’m sure I’ll worry about you every day. Write often and stay out of trouble. And try talking to Theodore sometimes. Not only do I think he likes you, but I also think you could use another friend. You think you need to do everything yourself, but you don’t. Try trusting someone for a change. I think Theodore is a good place to start.

I’ll miss you terribly. Hopefully this will all be over soon. If not, feel free to join me here when you come of age!

Lots of Love,  
Quisilla Rivers

Lucy sank onto the bed, clutching the letter like a lifeline. Quisilla was gone. Gone off to Russia without even a proper goodbye. She scanned the letter again. Mrs. Rivers hadn’t wanted to visit them. Why not? She thought of her father. He was big, intimidating, and mean, and fit the profile for a Death Eater pretty well. She felt like punching something. Of course. It wasn’t enough that he consistently made her and her mother miserable or that he was a bigoted, sneaky, selfish, pureblood supremacist. No. He just had to be the thing standing in the way of her seeing her best (and only) friend again. She stood up and began to pace again. She hated him. She just wanted to leave and never come back, but she couldn’t because that would leave her mother alone. She refused to leave until she could support herself and her mother on her own. So she stayed, silent and resentful, but there.

And Quisilla thought she should be friends with Theodore Nott of all people! His father was a Death Eater, he was an ass, and he had never shown any interest in her at all. Lucy was fine without him. She didn’t need other people. She had herself, her mother, and Quisilla. She didn’t need anyone else.  
***

Lucy hated the Carrows and their stupid rules, but recognized as well that she could generally get around them just by being the pureblood daughter of Albert Runcorn. At least her father had done one good thing for her. Still, she didn’t want to push her luck, so she cast as strong a disillusionment charm as she could before walking down towards the lake.

It was nearly dusk, so she walked quickly. The doors to the castle closed when it was dark, and she wanted to make sure she had enough time. She approached the tomb cautiously.

“Er…good evening, Professor Dumbledore,” she said quietly, “I don’t think we ever met, but I just wanted to say thanks. You favored Gryffindor ridiculously and some of your hiring decisions were downright stupid and you should have been much more involved in the actual running of the school rather than running off fighting a war all the time. But still…you were a better headmaster than I thought you would be. You actually gave a shit about the majority of your students, and you didn’t turn people away from getting an education. So that’s good. I mean, maybe you should have kept the school out of politics by picking one or the other because really that would have made a lot more sense. And you probably should have done something about the fact that Draco was trying to kill you all last year. That would have been smart. Also it might have been good of you to not keep Snape around. Then he might not have killed you. And he was a shitty teacher. But none of that is the point I’m trying to make. What I’m trying to say is: thank you for trying. Thank you for just wanting this school to be a good place. Clearly it didn’t work out, but I get that you tried. Thanks for that.”

She reached out hesitantly and gave the cold marble an awkward pat. “Right. So, that’s about it. Sorry I didn’t come to your funeral, but…I didn’t want to. Anyway, bye. Rest in peace and all.” She turned away and walked back up to the castle. She hadn’t particularly like Dumbledore, but she respected him. She respected that he was trying to work for some grand goal of peace and whatnot. So she felt it was only right to visit once, just in case.  
***

Lucy followed the majority of her house out the doors of the Great Hall. She saw Tracey double back to find Mandy. She saw Daphne searching desperately for Astoria. She saw Pansy and Millicent huddling together at the front of the line looking terrified. She saw Blaise and Theodore looking worried. She looked back at the Great Hall. There was Tracey pleading with Mandy. There were Gryffindors begging to stay and fight. She turned back, irresolute. Theodore looked back at her. She squared her shoulders and marched back inside.

If she fought and they lost, she would die. If she fought and they won, she would be free. Quisilla would come back. Her mother would be proud. Her father…well, she supposed she could end up fighting against him. Not a problem. If she left and they lost, she would never be able to live with herself. If she left and they won, well, she still wouldn’t be able to live with herself. There was really only one option.  
***

Lucy lay under the rubble that had once been part of a staircase. The dust was thick in the air. Her ears were ringing, drowning out the sounds of the battle going on around her. Everything hurt. She coughed and groped around for her wand while trying to piece together what had just happened. She had been dueling a masked Death Eater. The stairs had collapsed. She couldn’t have been out for more than a few minutes. She squinted around. The Death Eater she had been fighting lay under a pile of debris nearby. She was almost certain he was dead. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around. She coughed again, and suddenly she realized that she couldn’t feel her legs.

She attempted to sit up, but a large part of the banister had fallen over her torso. She squeezed her eyes shut. Pain was radiating from her head, her arm, and her lower back. That was not a good sign. She turned her head to look for her wand again. Blood dripped into her eyes. She held back a sob. She hadn’t cried in years. She was not about to start now.

A figure appeared in a doorway to her right. Lucy held her breath. If it was a Death Eater and they saw her, she was dead. If it was an ally, she would have to hope they found her. The figure drew closer. No mask, no cloak. Probably an ally. She weighed her chances and coughed again. Whoever it was gasped and moved forward. Definitely a student based on the voice. As they came closer, Lucy recognized them. Julian Spinks, the Hufflepuff who used to sing with Quisilla. “Here,” she called, “Get this thing off me.”

He hurried over. “Runcorn? What? I thought you left with the other Slytherins!”

“Obviously not. Now, get this damn thing off me.”

“Right.” He guided the banister away with his wand. Lucy sat up with difficulty and assessed her legs situation.

A huge chunk of staircase was obscuring most of the damage, but judging by the amount of blood and the complete lack of responsiveness, they had been crushed and her spinal cord had been damaged. She let out a frustrated growl. Julian looked at her, concern and fear scrawled across his face.

“Find my wand if you can. If not, get this off me and then get back to the people who need you.”

Julian frowned. “I’m not going to leave you here.”

“Shut up and do as I say.”

He summoned her wand from a few yards away. It had miraculously survived the collapse. Together, they moved the remaining rubble off of Lucy’s legs. They were a bloody mess and clearly broken, but Lucy looked satisfied anyway.

“At least they’re still there,” she said drily. Julian looked horrified. “Don’t go fainting on me now. It’s fine. I can’t even feel them. Now go fight the good fight.”

Julian shook his head. “I’m definitely not leaving you here if you can’t even move.”

“I can take care of myself. I’ve got my wand, haven’t I? Get going.”

“No.” Julian pocketed his wand and reached out to lift her up.

“Stop it! I told you to leave!”

“What are you going to do? Curse me? I’m on your side. We don’t have time for this.” He lifted her bridal style and set off. “Madam Pomfrey’s set up a temporary hospital area. I’m taking you there.”

“You’re an idiot! What happens if we meet Death Eaters on the way?” Lucy shouted.

“You’ve got your wand, haven’t you?”

“So put me down!”

“We’re almost there. I’m not going to leave you to die.”

“Fuck you!”

Julian ignored her and kept running. They reached the end of the corridor. Lucy could hear bangs and shouts from behind the door. “Keep your wand ready,” he advised her, “We’re going in.”

“Go around!”

“There is no around!” Julian kicked open the door as Lucy cast a shield charm. Chaos reigned. There was Seamus Finnigan dueling back-to-back with Su Li. A bang to their right and a Death Eater flew through the air away from Lee Jordan. Another took his place before the Death Eater had landed, and Lee howled as a bloody gash appeared on his face. Lucy stunned the Death Eater as Julian ran by. They made it to the next door with minimal difficulty. The corridor beyond was empty except for bodies. They kept their eyes fixed straight ahead as Julian ran. “In here,” Julian said at the next door. He opened it. “I’ve got wounded!” he shouted as he entered. Madam Pomfrey was working a few yards away on a boy with a broken arm. A few students and other teachers were scurrying around trying to help. One of them came over and instructed Julian to lay Lucy on a cot. He did, and then straightened up, ready to go back into the fight. “Good luck,” he said to her.

“Same to you,” she said grudgingly. He smiled and ran off.

*** 

Lucy was not a crier. If she had been a crier though, she would have cried. She sat (not like she had much choice about that) and watched them lower the coffin into the ground. People were crying all around her, but her eyes were dry. The service ended, and she rolled away. She had an appointment at St. Mungo’s to get to. They were going to try and get her walking again. They would fail. Every time someone tried to get her walking again, they failed. It hardly seemed worth it, but she kept going to the dumb appointments, kept trying. She owed it to him.


	7. The Artists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because the artistic ones band together despite other differences

It was Dean’s idea. He felt that his lack of creative outlet was damaging his mental health, and nobody from the Gryffindor second years was very artistic as far as he knew. But he was one of the few who knew Wayne liked poetry, and he also knew that Sally-Anne danced, and Julian sang very well. So he talked to Wayne one afternoon in October of his second year, and soon they had set up a time for the four of them to meet. Then Padma and Parvati found out about it, and Padma told Morag. Morag liked drawing, and Parvati enjoyed sewing and costuming. Padma was interested in everything.

They did a number of collaborative works in which Wayne wrote lyrics for Julian to sing, and Sally-Anne danced to them in costumes made by Parvati against backgrounds painted by Dean and Morag. These were generally performed for a very small number of people. Seamus usually came, as did Megan, Sophie, and Kevin. Lavender even saw a few of them. They did individual work as well, which Dean honestly enjoyed even more. They set up in an empty classroom and each did their own thing, simply enjoying each other’s company and using each other as vents when frustration ran high.

One day, a Slytherin walked in. Dean recognized her by sight as one of the girls from their year who giggled with Pansy Parkinson and the others. He looked at her warily.

“Er, hi,” she said quietly.

“Who are you?”Wayne asked, almost politely for him.

“Quisilla Rivers,” she answered, “I, er, I heard singing?” She spoke with a bit of a Russian accent and sounded oddly hopeful.

Julian nodded. “Yeah, that was me. Do you sing?” She nodded. “Cool! Would you like to join us? I could use a singing partner for some duets. I mean solos are great and all, but singing with other people is more fun. For me. Oh…” He looked around the room. “I mean…if you guys are okay with that?”

Dean and Parvati exchanged exasperated, reluctant looks, but the rest were nodding (some warily, some enthusiastically). They nodded too.

“Great!” Julian beamed. “So, what songs do you know?”

***

Quisilla proved to be a good addition to their little group. Seamus was horrified at first when Dean told him that they let a Slytherin in, but even he adjusted once he heard her and Julian singing together. Quisilla was fairly nice during meetings. Her sense of humor was a little harsher than some, and Dean noticed eventually that she had a way of getting what she wanted without asking for it outright, but overall she was okay. Outside of meetings, she rarely if ever acknowledged them, but Dean could understand why. She had to live with the Slytherins, and if they knew she was hanging around with a bunch of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws, some of whom were Muggle borns, well…Dean was pretty sure they wouldn’t take kindly to that.

He was proven partially wrong however, when for a performance in fourth year, Quisilla asked if she could bring a friend or two from Slytherin. The rest of them looked at her in surprise.

“Er…who?” Padma asked.

“Well, mainly Lucy, but Tracey might be interested too. It’s possible.”

“Lucy Runcorn?” Wayne said disbelievingly. Quisilla nodded.

“She is my best friend, so…yes, Lucy. I told her - well, she found out - where I’ve been going. She said she wanted to hear me sing.”

Dean, Wayne, Parvati, Padma, and Morag exchanged worried looks. Lucy Runcorn was known for being aggressively quiet and for the time she punched Ernie Macmillan in the face. She was generally feared, and they could not comprehend how she and the distinctly un-intimidating Quisilla could be best friends. Still, refusing would be rude and awkward and probably break any trust Quisilla had for them. So they agreed.

Lucy Runcorn turned out to be an impeccably mannered spectator. She applauded and even complimented people other than Quisilla on their work. Then she left and never acknowledged them outside the performances. Julian tried approaching her once or twice, but he learned quickly enough that she preferred to be left alone.

***

Wayne, Julian, Sally-Anne, and Morag had not been in Dumbledore’s Army when it was first formed. They were ashamed to admit that they had believed the lies told by the Ministry in that time. In their seventh year, they were not so naïve. They signed up as soon as they could. They, Parvati, and Padma were the only remaining members of their little arts club. Dean was on the run and Quisilla had moved back to Russia. They didn’t meet anymore. There was little time for dancing and drawing during a war.

The sudden upswing in violence towards students was not unexpected, but somehow it still caught them by surprise when they went for Neville. He escaped into the Room of Requirement, joined shortly by Seamus, Ernie, Michael, and Colin Creevey. Lavender and Parvati were the next to turn up, and soon everyone over-age but Terry, Mandy, and Sophie was living full-time in the Room of Requirement. Although it was frustrating to be constantly cooped up, there were perks to living just outside Snape’s and the Carrows’ rule. One of them was that Doria Anderson had a guitar, and she and Julian sang beautifully together. Sally-Anne led dancing while they sang, and sometimes they could fool themselves into thinking they were just camping out together, not on the run.

***

They were a smaller group now. They still met every once in a while, but the meetings felt empty. They were too quiet, for one thing. There was no one to sing, no one cursing writer’s block and the inadequacies of the English language. Morag was too busy to come more often than not. She had her hands full, and they understood. Mostly it was Dean, Parvati, Padma, and Sally-Anne. Quisilla had come to a few meetings after her return from Russia, but there was a disconnect between them now. She could see how much they had changed, and she stopped coming.

***

They were meeting in Parvati and Padma’s flat. Morag had come this time, which put them all in a good mood. Dean and Morag were discussing the frustrations of human proportions when, “I have to tell you something,” Sally-Anne said suddenly, stopping in the middle of her routine. Dean, Parvati, Padma, and Morag looked up. Sally-Anne looked nervous.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

Sally-Anne fiddled with the ends of her short blonde hair. “I got a job. With a dance troupe. We go on tour in a few months.”

Parvati gasped. “That’s great! I’m so happy for you!”

Sally-Anne bit her lip. “It’s in America.”

Silence fell. She seemed to be holding back tears (not an uncommon thing nowadays, but damn if it didn’t hurt every time). Dean stood up and walked over to her. He put an arm around her shoulders. Slowly, wordlessly, the others joined them until they were all gathered in a group hug with Sally-Anne crying in the middle.

“We’ll miss you,” Morag said quietly, “But if this is something you really want to do, you should go.”

Sally-Anne sniffed. “It’s a great opportunity, you know? And I’ve always wanted to see America. And…I could do with some time away.”

The others nodded and released her.

“Well…I think this calls for a bit of a celebration!” Morag said with forced cheerfulness. “Parvati, Padma, I am assuming you have firewhiskey somewhere in this place.” Parvati grinned and summoned a bottle and glasses from the kitchen. “To Sally-Anne, the first of us to get an actual career!” Morag said, raising her glass.

“To Sally-Anne!” they echoed. Sally-Anne blushed, and they all drank.

“Thanks. I never thought I’d be the first of us to get a career-type job.”

“So, do you know where in America you’ll be? Do you have a place to live yet?” Padma asked.

“We’re based in California, and until I get a place of my own, I’ve been invited to stay with one of the other dancers. She seems nice.”

“You will write to us, won’t you?” Dean said.

“Of course! And you’ll write back?”

“Definitely,” said Parvati.

 

A few weeks later, Sally-Anne left for America. She had a small send-off. Parvati, Hannah, Megan, and her parents were there. There was a lot of hugging. She and her mother cried. Then she was gone.

Then Dean went off to study in France, Morag was still busy taking care of Kevin, Parvati started doing fashion design, and Padma got a job collaborating with historians to make a book about the war. They still did art, and they still met sometimes, and they were still friends, but there were too few of them to make it worthwhile to be organized. The group came to an end.

***

An Excerpt from Fall of the Dark Lord: A History of the Second Wizarding War Chapter Eleven: Fallen in Battle

Wayne Hopkins, a seventh year student in Hufflepuff House at the time of the Battle of Hogwarts, was a poet and a member of Dumbledore’s Army. He fought and was one of seven students of that class who died in the battle. He wrote this poem in April of 1998. It is unknown whether he considered it complete or not. It is presented here as it was written in his journal.

Children of War

Where are the children?  
They are fighting.  
They curse, protect and run,  
And they plan their sacrifice.  
They write on walls.  
Messages of war.  
The children are soldiers now.

Where are the children?  
They are hiding.  
They lock doors to strange houses  
In distant countries and wait.  
They listen.  
News of war.  
The children are refugees now.

Where are the children?  
They are chained.  
They sit in damp, cold cells.  
They lie in the dark and despair.  
They wait.  
Prisoners of war.  
The children are inmates now.

Where are the children?  
Six feet under.  
They lie in the ground and rot.  
They were taken from us.  
They fill obituaries.  
Casualties of war.  
The children are victims now.

Where are the children?  
We are gone.  
We were trained for battle.  
We were driven away.  
We were shackled.  
We were killed.  
There are no children here.


	8. Nott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theodore Nott: a character study type thing

Herbology was Hell, Lisa decided. Hellbology. Demon plants sent from the pit to destroy her brain. It was, in other words, not her forte. It didn’t matter what she tried. She had never been able to keep a plant alive, and now she was expected to do that and study its life-cycle. She hated Herbology and she hated OWLs. She let her head fall onto her book with a soft thump.

“You’re not going to learn any more that way,” a voice said from her right. She turned her head and sat up. There was a boy sitting there whose name she probably should have remembered. He was a Slytherin and had been in her Herbology class for going on five years now. Nott, that was it. Why was he talking to her? He rolled his eyes. “I believe you have to actually read the book, not face-plant into it.”

“I hate Herbology,” Lisa grumbled. Nott rolled his eyes again and went back to work. Lisa resumed her reading reluctantly. After a few minutes she let out a whine and shoved her chair back. She needed to do something.

“Do you need help?” Nott asked expressionlessly.

“Yes,” Lisa groaned. To her surprise, Nott came and sat down beside her. She blinked at him.

“Well? What’s difficult?” he asked. Lisa pointed, still unable to speak. “Good. That’s easy to explain.”

Nott, it turned out, was actually a fairly good tutor. He was rude and generally sounded angry, it was true, but Lisa quickly learned that he was simply an angry person. It had nothing to do with her. Soon, they were meeting regularly. He would help her with Herbology, and she would help him with Astronomy. One day, Lisa finally asked the question she had been wondering about since they had first started.

“Why did you decide to help me?”

Nott raised an eyebrow. “You needed help. It wasn’t inconvenient for me to help you.”

“So if you had been busy, you wouldn’t have done it?”

“Exactly.” A few seconds passed in relative silence. “Does that bother you?” Nott asked.

“No,” Lisa said, “I didn’t really expect anything else. You don’t seem like a naturally altruistic person.”

“I’m not.”

“But I don’t think you’re really a bad person either,” she continued, “You live for yourself, and helping people is incidental, but you also don’t go out of your way to hurt anyone.”

“Whatever. Let’s get back to Neptune, shall we?”

***

This was probably a stupid idea. Mike knew it was stupid, but he wasn’t about to let them chain up a first year in the dungeons overnight. No way. He hadn’t told Terry or Anthony about his plan, because he knew they would try to stop him. And he didn’t want to be stopped. That boy was going to at least spend the night unshackled. At best, Mike would be able to sneak him out of the castle entirely. But he would settle for making him comfortable for a night. He crept through the entrance hall and down into the dungeons. He turned a corner and came face to face with Theodore Nott. Their wands were both up instantly. Mike had ten curses ready on the tip of his tongue, but Nott lowered his wand.

“Well?” Nott said sardonically. “Are you going to stun me? Wipe my memory?”

“That was the idea,” Mike said.

“Well, do it if you must, but it’ll arouse a lot more suspicion.”

“What do you mean?”

Nott rolled his eyes. “I’m not interested in telling the Carrows or Professor Snape that you’re here. I saw nothing. Go on your merry way and let me go to bed.”

“What are you doing out here?” Mike asked suspiciously.

Nott raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have something more important to be doing?” He walked away and didn’t look back.

Mike watched him go curiously. If he was telling the truth, it would be better to let him go. If he was lying, it would be better to stop him. But somehow Mike got the feeling that Theodore Nott was an ally in this case. He hurried on.

 

Theodore felt the glares from Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein throughout Herbology two days later. He figured it was probably because Corner had told them about their meeting. They must have thought Theodore told Carrow. Theodore sighed exasperatedly as he walked back up to the castle. The fool had gotten himself caught. Theodore had nothing to do with it. He had, in fact, been trying to communicate to the idiots in this rebellion that he was not opposed to them.

He frowned (more than he already was) and slowed his steps until he was walking nearer to the Ravenclaws than the Slytherins. When he was certain the closest Slytherins were Lucy and Tracey, he turned to face them.

“I didn’t tell anyone. He got caught. I don’t care about telling them anything,” he said quietly. “So stop glaring at me. They’ll get suspicious.”

He didn’t wait to hear them respond.

***

Theodore was a survivor first and foremost. After a survivor, he was a scholar. He liked learning and reading. It was interesting and useful.

He also liked simple things. Though he would never tell anyone about it, he liked warm jumpers and scarves, hot chocolate on cold days, reading books by the fire, trees, lounging around by the lake, solitude and comfort.

He didn’t tell his parents any of these things though. They had high expectations of him, and as far as they were concerned he would be their perfect pure-blood son working towards becoming a great Death Eater or, assuming that didn’t work out, a great Minister of Magic. Theodore chose to let them believe that.

As for the stuff about pure bloods being inherently superior to Muggle borns, Theodore really couldn’t care less. While it made sense to him that pure bloods would be better at magic, there was verifiable evidence that Muggle borns could be just as good. Whether it was morally right for them to be that good was of no consequence to Theodore, and he didn’t really see what all the fuss was about.

There were very few things for which Theodore would risk anything. He wouldn’t throw himself in front of a killing curse for anyone, but he would perhaps pull them out of the way. He wasn’t about to sign up for Dumbledore’s Army, but he would risk being caught not telling on them. Others seemed to think he was selfish, and he probably was. He liked simple things, and he was unwilling to give his life or limb for anything or anyone else.

“Theo,” Blaise said one day in third year as they sat around in the common room doing nothing in particular, “Why don’t you hang around Draco more often? His family is influential in all the right circles. A friendship with him could be beneficial for you.”

“No,” Theodore said flatly, “It wouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Draco and I have different goals. I don’t think we’d see eye-to-eye on most things.”

“Really?”

Theodore nodded, but did not elaborate. Blaise studied him carefully for another minute, but then gave up.

“You enjoy being enigmatic, don’t you.”

“I’m an open book. Learn to read.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if there's any character or idea you particularly want to know more about! I have ideas about most of them and it's difficult to prioritize.


	9. Triptych

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Anthony Goldstein

Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Anthony Goldstein were a force to be reckoned with. By the end of the first two weeks of first year, they were nearly inseparable. It was a simple enough relationship. Michael was headstrong and exuberant and a little cocky. Terry was sharp and detail-oriented and excellent at planning. Anthony was calm, level-headed, and patient. All three of them were incredibly intelligent. Together, they were practically unstoppable.

***

Anthony knew what he was going to be from day one. He was going to be a Healer. He was good at healing, and he wanted to help people. It was simple.

Mike, on the other hand, was less decided. He wanted to be a curse breaker and a Quidditch player and an explorer and an inventor. He finally made a decision in seventh year. Assuming they made it out of this mess, he was going to be an Auror.

Terry took a long time to decide as well. He knew he wanted to play to his strengths and do something intellectual, but that was a broad category. He also knew that his parents wanted him to work in the Ministry. In fifth year, he went to his career advising with Professor Flitwick. He left with a new sense of direction. Experimental Charms. The others couldn’t understand why they didn’t think of that much earlier.

***

Mike and Stephen started it. They decided that Kevin needed cheering up because he had been looking miserable for the past few days and wouldn’t tell them why. While Stephen kept Kevin in the library (not a very difficult task, really), the other boys transformed their dormitory into a massive, pillow-strewn, incredibly comfortable blanket fort, complete with chocolates and snacks smuggled from the dinner table. Kevin and Stephen returned just as the finishing touches were being added to the interior. Mike declared it the “first ever, definitely to be done again, Blanket Fort Picnic.”

From that day onward, whenever any of the five of them were seriously upset, the other four would work together to construct a blanket fort and get food for the picnic. Terry was notoriously useless at the fort construction, while Stephen was generally agreed to be the best. Mike and Kevin were good as well, and Anthony was at least not as bad as Terry, a fact that he took great pride in. Sometimes not all of them could make it, but it was generally understood that Blanket Fort Picnics were sacred and there was to be no resentment surrounding them.

***

When Mike started dating Ginny Weasley, Terry and Anthony teased him mercilessly. Likewise when Terry dated Morag for that one month in sixth year, Michael and Anthony would not stop making fun of him. When Michael and Ginny broke up because she didn’t like his attitude about losing, Terry and Anthony brought Mike chocolate and books and pillows. The Ravenclaw boys had a Blanket Fort Picnic. Then they shoved him in the direction of Cho Chang. When Morag broke up with Terry, Mike and Anthony were prepared to do the same thing (minus Cho), but Terry laughed in their faces every time they tried to comfort him. He was fine. Plus now Kevin would stop glaring at him for daring to date his best friend.

Anthony never dated; he said he just didn’t have the time. Maybe someday when he was older he would meet a girl and they would date for a while and get married and have hundreds of fat children. Terry and Mike knew it would be pointless to try and set him up on a date if he didn’t want to do it, but that didn’t stop them from trying. It was good fun.

No one got to set Terry up on dates though. There was a very strict, unspoken rule about that.

***

Over the summers, Anthony’s house was the preferred place to go. It had been Mike’s for a while, but over the years, things with Mike’s family had gotten tense, and by fifth year there was often too much conflict for Anthony and Terry (and Mike, for that matter) to be totally comfortable there. Terry’s parents were too strict for them to have any fun. Anthony’s parents were great, if a little too eager to join the boys in whatever they were doing. They restrained themselves for the most part. They were good people, and they let the boys do what they wanted within reason.

***

Terry got letters from home about once every month or so, Mike about twice a month, and Anthony about once a week. It took Mike until early December to notice that Terry never opened his letters at the table, but once he did, he noticed other things as well. He noticed that Terry would go missing for about an hour every day that he got a letter. He noticed the strange looks he would give Mike and Anthony whenever they got mail. He noticed that he never saw Terry writing home. He noticed that Terry didn’t talk about his parents that much.

He shared these observations with Anthony.

“I can’t believe I never noticed that. When did he first get a letter?”

“Er…near the end of September I think. And I think he’s only gotten three or four now. Why wouldn’t they write him more? Does he write them?”

Anthony shrugged. “Who knows?”

“…Do you think we should ask him about it?”

Anthony’s eyes widened. “I don’t know…if he doesn’t want to share, we can’t exactly make him. But it is kind of worrying. I mean, he seems fine, but he also seems like the kind of person who could hide emotions fairly well if he wanted to.”

In the end, they decided they would ask about it the next time one of them got mail.

 

“Letter from Mum,” Anthony said casually, slitting it open. He scanned it quickly. “She and dad went to a dinner party the other night. Oh, and people were asking after me. They said I was doing well, and they want me to go home for the holidays.”

Mike studied Terry’s face as Anthony read. He couldn’t quite figure out what the emotion on it was. Resentment? Confusion? Jealousy? Frustration? Maybe a mix of all of them?

“How are your parents doing, Terry?” he asked carefully.

“Oh, er, fine I suppose,” Terry said, “Happy to hear I’ve been keeping up with classes. Usual stuff…are you guys okay?”

Mike quickly schooled his face into a more neutral expression. “Yeah, why?”

Terry raised an eyebrow. “You looked…concerned.” There was a tense pause. “Are you concerned about…me?”

Anthony sighed. “Yeah. We are. We’re just…wondering why you don’t get a lot of letters and never seem to talk about your parents and don’t write to them. And never read your letters at the table.”

Terry’s eyebrows travelled farther up his forehead. “Why is that concerning? I don’t read their letters at the table because they’re my private letters from home. I do actually write to my parents. I talk about them when it’s relevant. And they don’t write a lot because they’re busy people.”

“But they didn’t write to you for almost a month after term started,” Mike blurted out.

Terry glared at him. “I know. And really, I’m fine. Are you okay? You seem to be far more interested in my mail than I am.”

Mike and Anthony dropped the subject after that. If something was wrong, Terry would tell them when he felt like it, not before. They had only known each other for a few months now after all.

***

There were times when Mike felt like punching a wall would be more effective than trying to communicate with his family. His extreme Christian conservative parents with their pansexual son and their rebellious and pagan son were unlikely to really listen to their children. They at least tried to understand and accept Mike eventually, and Mike responded in kind. It didn’t exactly work, but they weren’t openly hostile towards each other. Gabriel, on the other hand, was less well received and less receptive. Mike hated it, because he loved his little brother and his parents, but they seemed determined to make it as difficult as possible. So Mike took refuge in his friends.

He spared them the details normally, but when he showed up without warning in the Goldsteins’ fireplace during the summer before his sixth year, questions were inevitable. He stumbled onto the hearth rug as Anthony’s mother hurried into the room. “Tony!” she called over her shoulder as soon as she saw who it was. Mike heard Anthony’s footsteps and honestly could have cried in relief if it weren’t for the fact that he was pretty much already crying. “Mike, honey, what happened?” Mrs. Goldstein asked putting her hands on his shoulders.

“Nothing,” Mike said weakly, “I mean, I’m fine. No one’s hurt.” Anthony entered the room and ran to Mike’s side immediately. 

“Mum, could you or dad send a message to Terry asking him to get here as soon as he can?” Mrs. Goldstein nodded and hurried off. “Come and sit, Mike. It’s okay. Take your time and tell me whatever you want once you’re ready.”

Mike took a few minutes to control his breathing. “They hate each other,” he whispered finally, “I just want them to stop fighting. Gabe’s their son; why can’t they just love him? I’m their son. He’s my brother. Why can’t they just…” He trailed off helplessly. Anthony wrapped an arm around him.

“Mike…. I’m sorry. You can stay here as long as you need. And Terry will be here soon. You’ll be okay. We won’t let them talk to you until and unless you’re ready. Any of them.”

“Thanks,” Mike said thickly. “I told them not to follow me, but I don’t know if they’ll listen for long. I’m kind of surprised they’re not bursting through your fireplace yet.”

“Well, if they do, we’re sending them right back. Don’t worry. You’ve got an escape here as long as you need it.”

“Thanks.”

“Tony? Mike?” Mr. Goldstein entered the room. Mike hastily sat up straighter and wiped a few stray tears off of his face. Mr. Goldstein appeared not to notice. “Terry should be here soon. He just has to fix a few things with his parents I think.”

“Thanks, Dad. Could you tell him we’re in my room?”

“Sure. Whatever you need, just ask.”

Anthony and Mike got up off of the sofa and retreated to Anthony’s room. They waited in silence for Terry to arrive. Five minutes later he burst into the room.

“Hi. Sorry it took me so long. Had to get my parents to stop talking and let me go,” he explained hastily. “Anyway…what happened?”

Anthony looked at Mike.

“There was a fight. Another one. I’m pretty sure my parents hate my brother and my brother hates my parents and none of them particularly like me either,” Mike said flatly.

“Oh.” Terry cast around wildly for something to say, but came up with nothing. He knew Mike’s family had been close at one point, and he knew that the fighting now was putting a strain on Mike. But he had never experienced anything similar himself, had no way to relate. He looked at Anthony, hoping he would have something more helpful to say than ‘oh.’

“You don’t have to say anything, guys,” Mike said, watching them, “Just being here is plenty. Thank you.”

Terry sat down on the bed next to him. “Are you sure? I’m positive that with a little effort Tony and I could come up with an amazing motivational speech.”

Mike half-smiled. “I’m sure.”

“In that case, I’m going to get some comfort food and extra blankets, and we are going to have a Blanket Fort Picnic,” Anthony declared. “Start with what we already have.”

Terry looked around the room doubtfully. He gathered the sheets and pillows from Anthony’s bed and heaped them in the middle of the floor. “Er.”

Mike laughed a little. “Seriously? How long have Blanket Fort Picnics been happening?”

“Five years,” Terry said, flushing. “But to be fair, you and Stephen and Kevin all had prior experience.”

“Tony learned.”

“Well, he’s clearly just superior to me in every way I suppose,” Terry said, mostly sarcastically.

“Oh, shut up. That’s not true,” Mike scoffed. “Come on, let’s get this thing started before he comes back.”

Together, they formed a decent fort with plenty of pillows and fluffy blankets and a space in the middle for eating. Anthony brought hot chocolate and stew. They settled in for a night of comfort and friendly company.

Anthony woke up in the middle of the night. It wasn’t unusual for him. He lay there for a while, watching his two best friends sleeping. Mike looked peaceful when he was asleep. It was a nice change from the tortured expression he had been wearing when he arrived. Terry on the other hand, always looked unhappy when he slept. He was a frustrating friend sometimes in that he refused to admit that he had problems. Anthony remembered vividly the times he and Mike had gotten Terry to actually vent. Twice in five years. He sighed quietly. His friends were pretty messed up. He shuddered to think what would happen to them if he weren’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	10. Su Li - Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a continuation of last chapter. That's going to wait until later, but it will happen. Don't worry.
> 
> A study of Su Li and the times she lost her temper.

Su always had this way of looking unruffled, as if no matter what happened, she would be okay. It was comforting to be around her. She simply exuded peace and good will. Her friends got used to it, started to take it for granted. When Su’s little sister showed up and told them about her terrifying temper, they were…skeptical, to say the least. But Mei remained adamant that Su was scary.

*** 

The first Ravenclaw to witness to Su’s anger was Terry. It was in third year. The anger hadn’t been directed at him, but it was terrifying nonetheless. He did not envy Draco Malfoy.

Su had clearly been having a bad day. She was quieter than usual, and she was usually quite talkative. Then she and Terry went to the library after class to get some work done, and who should sit down near them but Draco Malfoy and his cronies. Su had looked distinctly unhappy to even be in the same room as Malfoy, and that was before he started talking.

He was going on about Hagrid and Buckbeak and how his father was going to ensure they were both miserable and/or dead. Terry watched Su’s hands clench into fists. Su loved animals, and she was quite fond of Hagrid as well. Terry checked his watch. Mike was supposed to meet them soon, but based on Su’s expression, it might be more prudent to leave.

“Su…let’s go study somewhere else.”

“No.” Su stood up.

“What are you doing?” Terry did not like the look on Su’s face. She turned away from him and walked right up to Malfoy.

“Hey, Malfoy, here’s an idea for you,” she said. Malfoy looked up at her, confused and vaguely offended. “Shut up and let people who aren’t sadistic toads like you work in peace. If you say another word, I am going to tear out your tongue with my bare hands.”

Malfoy spluttered indignantly while Crabbe and Goyle blinked stupidly, unsure what to do.

“Er…Su?” Terry said cautiously, stepping forward.

“Quiet, Terry.”

Malfoy seemed to regain his composure. “Oh yeah?” he sneered. “I could take you on any time. You’re just a-”

Su didn’t let him finish the sentence. Her eyes flashed dangerously. She seized him by the front of his robes and lifted him bodily out of his chair. “I’m just a what, asshat?”

“Su! Put him down! It’s not worth it!”

Crabbe and Goyle rose from their chairs. Su shoved Malfoy back down into his seat.

“One more word about Buckbeak or Hagrid, Malfoy. Just say one more word and I will – Terry, what?” Terry had grabbed Su by the arm and was attempting to drag her away. “Stop it!” She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and pulled out her wand. Crabbe and Goyle were almost ready to spring into action. Terry grabbed Su’s arm again.

Mike chose that moment to show up. “What is going on?”

“Mike,” Terry said, relieved. “A little help?”

Su snarled and attempted to pull away from Terry again. Mike rushed forward, and together he and Terry managed to drag Su out of the library.

***

In fifth year, Su lost her temper at Umbridge after Educational Decree Number 26. Everyone was furious, of course. It couldn’t be more obvious that Umbridge and the Ministry were trying to manipulate them from the beginning. But this was restriction of communication and information. This was unacceptable, and Ravenclaw House was furious. Su read the notice twice through, her expression darkening. Terry and Mike, who happened to be in the common room at the time, recognized the danger signs.

“Su…” Mike began.

“She can’t do that!”

“Su.”

“She’s taken away our defense education, made it nearly impossible to meet up after class, given herself singular control over almost every aspect of the school, and now this? She can’t take away our right to talk to our professors! They’re there to support us and guide us outside of academics too!” Su turned to the door and started walking.

“Su!” Mike jumped in front of her. She glowered at him. “Look, it’s a terrible breach of our basic rights and a great big ‘fuck you’ to education, but we can’t do anything about it right now.”

“I can hex Umbridge into the next century. How about that?” Su growled.

“She’s got full authority over discipline, Su,” Terry said, “She could make your life Hell.”

“Worth it.”

“No,” Terry said calmly. “Not worth it. She’s a sadistic, evil woman. But we’ll get around this. That’s what we do, isn’t it? We’ll find a way to talk to our teachers.”

“She needs to be kicked out of Hogwarts,” Su said angrily, “And since no one has the power to do it legally…”

“Su, stop it. You’re not going to go break the law just to get back at Umbridge. There’ll be a time for that later, all right?”

Su glowered at them for a few moments. Then she sighed angrily. “Fine.”

During Defense Against the Dark Arts that day, Terry, Mike, and Anthony kept a close eye on Su. She put on a decent show of reading for the first half hour of class. Then she stopped and simply glared at Umbridge, hands clenched on her book. Umbridge didn’t notice until Su suddenly slammed her book shut and stood up.

“Miss Li?” she asked sweetly. “Where do you think you are going?”

Su did not deign to respond, simply marched to the door.

“Miss Li, it is only 11:16,” Umbridge said dangerously.

Su turned back and fixed Umbridge with a withering glare. “Sorry, Professor? That’s not information strictly related to the subject you are paid to teach, is it.” She slammed the door on her way out.

***

Su remained remarkably calm for most of seventh year. She was an anchor for many of her classmates. Of course she got angry sometimes. It was impossible not to that year. But overall, she had fewer explosions of temper than anyone else.

***

Midnight came and the battle began. Su was stationed in the grounds with Morag and a few Gryffindors and Ravenclaws from the year below them. It took the Death Eaters a while to break through the first line of defensive enchantments, and then a little longer to reach Su and her group. Su saw a masked figure running towards her, its wand raised. She let out a long, slow breath. Her eyes narrowed. The fury of everything that had happened over the past year bubbled up inside her. First years chained and tortured, good people rounded up and murdered, friends driven into hiding, children indoctrinated into hatred, more children forced into becoming soldiers, the school ruined, her sister traumatized. She let out a howl of fury to rival Voldemort’s screams and charged.

***

Don’t you know? It’s when the nice, quiet ones get angry that you’re really in trouble.


	11. Hopkins & Jones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The relationship between Megan Jones and Wayne Hopkins

Wayne felt his robe catch on his foot. Or maybe his foot caught on his robe. Either way, his foot stopped. The rest of him kept going. He flailed his arms in a vain attempt to keep his balance, heard Megan shriek. He tumbled down the stairs. Luckily, it wasn’t a very long flight of stairs. Unluckily, they were stone. He came to a stop at the bottom, lying in a heap on his side. His left arm stuck out at a strange angle.

Megan came running down the last few stairs as Wayne sat up, clutching his broken arm and valiantly fighting back tears. “Wayne, are you okay?”

“My arm is broken, but other than that, you know, peachy,” Wayne said.

“Hospital Wing, come on,” she said, helping him to his feet. “Can you walk? You didn’t hurt your legs, did you? Is your head okay? God, you’re such an idiot. This is why robes are impractical. We need to switch to tunics.”

Wayne grimaced. “I’m fine. And I don’t think anyone is ever going to agree with you about tunics.”

Megan resisted the urge to smack the back of Wayne’s head. “It’s a great idea, and they will come ‘round eventually.”

They set off for the Hospital Wing. Luckily, they weren’t on the opposite side of the castle. They managed to avoid meeting anyone on the way.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head ruefully as Megan explained what had happened.

“Running around near staircases, the old favourite,” she said wryly.

“Well there’s hardly anywhere to run around in this place that isn’t near a staircase,” Wayne pointed out. Madam Pomfrey looked at him disapprovingly, but she didn’t seem to have a retort.

***

Wayne and Megan met at the welcoming feast, and upon discovering that they were both Welsh, attempted to bond. There was friction at first. They were both intense people and just dissimilar enough to dislike each other in the beginning.

But that changed when they were forced to unite in the face of flying lessons.

Megan was terrible at flying. She actually hated it. If it were up to her, her feet would never leave the ground. It wasn’t up to her though. Flying lessons were mandatory.

Wayne was also terrible at flying and not particularly fond of it. He was graceless enough with both feet on the ground; he didn’t need an additional way to hurt himself.

Megan and Wayne exchanged irritated expressions throughout the first lesson. It was the beginning of something beautiful.

***

Wayne was not usually a nervous person. He was loud and rude and passionate and careless. He did not like the feeling of being nervous. And he especially didn’t like that he was nervous about telling Megan anything. It was stupid to be nervous. They were best friends no matter what. He walked into the common room and sat down next to her on the sofa. “Hi, Megan. You almost done with that essay?”

“Kind of,” she said distractedly.

“Hurry up, will you? I’m hungry, bored, gay, and I want chocolate.”

“Mhm…. Wait, what?” Megan dropped her quill and looked up at him. “What did you say?”

“I’m hungry.”

“After that.”

“Bored.”

“After that.”

“I want chocolate.”

“Wayne!”

“I’m gay!”

The common room went quiet around them. Wayne clapped a hand over his mouth. “Shit. Maybe should have whispered that.”

Megan looked like she was trying to suppress laughter at the look on his face. “Okay,” she said.

“Okay? Just…okay?”

Megan nodded. “And if anyone else has a problem with that,” she said, raising her voice just slightly, “They’ll have to deal with me.”

***

“You’re such an idiot,” Megan said quietly as she dabbed at the cut on Wayne’s forehead with a rag dipped in some potion. Wayne wasn’t sure what; potions weren’t his thing. Wayne hissed and tried to pull away, but Megan held him down. “Don’t be such a baby. Can’t hurt more than what Carrow did.”

“S’pose so,” Wayne said through gritted teeth, “But it still bloody stings.”

Megan looked unimpressed, but proceeded more gently. “And you’re still an idiot. Why did you take the fall for him?”

Wayne shifted uncomfortably.

“No really, Wayne, why did you take the fall for Smith? He left the DA. He abandoned us.”

“He didn’t betray us or anything, Megs! He got scared, and he wants to live to do more with his life. As much as it’s a shit thing to do, I understand. It’s not like he’s an enemy now. He’s a civilian. Like Linda. Like the other students who didn’t join the DA. It’s not a crime to want to live. And he’s our housemate for fuck’s sake. That’s not something you just forget.” Wayne ended his speech with an annoyed huff and crossed his arms defiantly.

After a moment, Megan shrugged. “I guess you’re right. We may have been a bit harsh on him.”

Wayne nodded. “Julian’s really the only one who’s still talking to him.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

Wayne grinned (as much as he could without re-opening his injuries). “I guess we will.”

***

Wayne visited Megan’s farm three times. The first time was over the summer holidays before third year. The second time his whole family came because their flat was being repaired. That was during the Easter holidays in fifth year. Then the summer before sixth year, Wayne visited again.

“Megan, why do you even like me?” Wayne asked. They were sitting in Megan’s bedroom. Rain pounded against her window. Megan was lying on her stomach on the bed, kicking her feet and attempting to decide what NEWT classes to take. Wayne was in the chair at the desk, watching the rain. At his words, Megan looked up, eyes wide and brow furrowed.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked.

Wayne shrugged. “I’m not particularly likeable. Or a great friend. I don’t consider other people’s feelings.”

Megan held up a hand. “Let me stop you right there. Because this,” she said, gesturing at Wayne’s slumped shoulders and gloomy face, “has gone on long enough. You and Kevin didn’t work because you both had different needs. You and I are friends because we work well together. We remind each other of important things. You remind me to be idealistic. I remind you to get your head out of the clouds once in a while. It works. Now for fuck’s sake, cheer up.”

Wayne smiled despite himself. “Fine. If you insist.”

“I do. Now, is Care of Magical Creatures worth taking next year with Hagrid? Because I love the subject, but Hagrid’s not the best teacher.”

***

“Gwyneth’s getting married!” Megan practically squealed with excitement. Wayne startled, sending toast flying.

“What?! I didn’t know she was even seeing anybody!” he said.

“Didn’t I tell you? She’s been dating some bloke named Richard for the past six months. He proposed this weekend!”

“I thought they’d split up!”

“No! Oh my God, this is wonderful! They’re so good together! Hey!” she called down the table. “Susan, Hannah, guess what? My sister’s getting married!” Hannah and Susan gasped and hurried over to give Megan their congratulations to pass on to Gwyneth.

Later that night, Megan and Wayne squirreled themselves away in a corner of the common room.

“Megs, are you sure you’re happy about Gwyneth and Richard getting married?” Wayne asked quietly.

Megan nodded. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that. I’m happy for Gwyneth. She doesn’t want the same things I do, and now I know she’ll be happy where she is. Richard’s a good man.”

“So, you’re okay with her moving on with her life?”

Megan stuck out her tongue at him. “Yes. Believe it or not, I am.” They were silent for a few moments until Megan said, “I know you don’t understand it exactly. You’re not a younger sibling. When your older sibling moves out it’s not an easy adjustment. Gwyneth’s been part of my life since I was born. Her not being around feels unnatural. I don’t like it. But I’ve come to accept it now. And when I’m of age, I’ll go off on my own for a bit too.”

Wayne looked at her in surprise. “But I thought…”

Megan smiled. “I’ll be going back. I love that farm, and I want to live there. But I think I’ll need a few years on my own first.”

“Where will you go?” Wayne asked.

“Oh, not far. It’s not like I want to leave the country or anything. But just living in my own place for a while seems like a good idea.”

Wayne nodded. “Yeah. It does. Hey, we could be neighbors! Or flat-mates if you’d want that.”

“Neighbors,” Megan said enthusiastically, “We’ll see each other pretty much every day of course, but we’d have our own space too. It’ll be just like Hogwarts, but without the dormmates. Unless we get boyfriends or something,” she added.

“Ha. Have you seen my relationship history?” Wayne said skeptically. “One epic crush decimated by incompatible sexualities and one relationship that ended with…well. That.”

“You and Kevin didn’t end so badly as all that,” Megan said fairly, “You still talk to each other at least.”

“Now we do,” Wayne muttered.

“Anyway, you’re too young to be giving up on love. Look at my relationship history,” Megan said pointedly. It was nonexistent.

“Fair enough. Neighbors?” Wayne stuck out his hand.

“Neighbors.” They shook on it.

***

It was five years later, and Megan liked her new neighbors. They were good people who didn’t question her strange habits. They were Muggles, so they had to put up with rather a lot of those. But they were always willing to water her plants while she was away, and she would do the same for them. There was just one problem with them.

They weren’t Wayne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. That was kind of mean. But I also really enjoyed writing it.


	12. Christmas 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into their holiday traditions, specific years or just in general.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY! And if you don't celebrate Christmas, HAPPY DECEMBER 25 ANYWAY!

Neville’s Christmases were always somewhat stressful. He had a lot of relatives, and they all wanted to hear about how well he was doing in his classes. His Gran was busy running around hostessing, so Neville couldn’t cling to her stern but familiar presence either. He was left on his own to fend off Great Uncle Algie’s increasingly slurred questions about Neville’s social and academic life. His younger cousins – first or removed or second, Neville could never keep track – badgered him for stories about Harry Potter’s adventures more than Neville’s own. Neville tried to explain that he didn’t know everything, but nine-year-olds were not easily satisfied. All of that, combined with Auntie Enid’s continual efforts to get everybody to eat sixth helpings of everything, made for a difficult evening.

The best part of Christmas for Neville was Christmas Eve and earlier Christmas Day. Christmas Eve would be just him and Gran. It was quiet and homey. They decorated the Christmas tree together and waited for the carol singers to come by. The same group of carolers had come to their house every Christmas Eve since Neville had been born. He and Gran would keep some tea and hot chocolate ready for them whenever they came by. Every year they ended with Silent Night, which Neville thought was really the best way to end.

On Christmas Day, Neville woke up early. He and Gran opened presents and had breakfast together. Then they went to St. Mungo’s to visit Neville’s parents. It was a bit of a depressing tradition, but Neville wouldn’t have it any other way. When Neville was nine, Gran had suggested going on Boxing Day instead, and Neville had accidentally put out all the lights in the house. Gran never suggested it again, and Neville only missed the Christmas visit one year when he stayed at Hogwarts for the Yule Ball. He and Gran went around New Year’s instead.

***

Wayne liked Christmas. It was the time of year when he actually got to treat himself and his parents. They were poor. There was no getting around it. They simply did not have much money, and therefore did not have much of anything (anything material, anyway). But when Christmas came, that never seemed to matter so much. He always found a way to get his parents something special, and they always found a way to get him something special too. Wayne loved Christmas.

In his fifth year at Hogwarts, Wayne’s mother got a job. A good job that paid well. It was one of the best and worst Christmases Wayne had ever had. Best because he and his parents were that much more relaxed, worst because his mother had to work in the morning.

***

Anthony Goldstein did not celebrate Christmas. He was Jewish. He celebrated Hanukkah. This was problematic some years when term didn’t end until after Hanukkah started. But usually he found a way to celebrate anyway. By third year, he had found a small group of Jewish students to worship with. One of the older students had taught the House Elves about latkes and sufganiot, and they were never lacking in that regard. He and the other Jewish students also organized games of dreidel. Anthony was delighted to have found them.

***

Millicent Bulstrode’s Christmases were usually unremarkable. She liked them, liked the presents and the food and spending time with her parents. But she never felt like she had a real Christmas experience until her first year at Hogwarts when she stayed at school with Daphne. Millicent had been wary of Daphne at first, but despite her outward appearance of cold indifference, Daphne was actually capable of being very kind. She dragged Millicent around all day, first to breakfast, then outside for a snowball fight with some Ravenclaws, then to dinner where they pulled countless crackers together. Then they went back to the common room and ate sweets by the fire.

“Daphne?” Millicent ventured to ask at one point. Daphne turned to face her. Her blonde hair seemed to glow in the firelight, and her icy blue eyes looked open and warm for a change.

“Yes?”

“Why aren’t you home for Christmas?” Millicent wasn’t entirely sure why she asked, but having asked, she discovered she really wanted to know.

“Mum and Dad and Astoria went to visit my aunt and uncle in America. I don’t like America or my aunt and uncle. Why aren’t you?”

Millicent thought for a moment. “I guess I just didn’t like the thought of another dull Christmas at home. I mean, I love my parents and everything, but we never do anything fun. The Christmas part of the day always seems to end after presents.”

Daphne nodded. “And was this one better?”

“Yes,” Millicent said with no hesitation. “Much better.”

Daphne smiled. “I’m glad. I liked today too.”

***

Justin always had very elaborate Christmas Eves. His family hosted a Christmas Eve Ball for their friends and connections and various aristocrats. It was a big deal, and Justin rather enjoyed it. He liked meeting people. He liked seeing everyone dressed up and smiling. He liked the food. The party generally lasted until about midnight. When he was younger, Justin had only been allowed to stay up until nine o’clock, but by the time he was eleven he was allowed to stay up for the whole thing. Once the guests were gone, the Finch-Fletchleys went to bed, only to wake up at seven o’clock the next day when Justin’s cousin woke up and started shouting for the whole house to get up for Christmas.

Christmas Day was generally a pretty quiet affair. It was usually Justin, his parents, his grandmother, his father’s brother and his wife, their son, and Miranda, their cook. She usually went home early to visit her son if he was in the country, but he often wasn’t. Justin liked Christmas Day better than Christmas Eve. His uncle could be difficult to be around, but overall he got along very well with his family, and he liked being with them for the holidays.

***

Christmas at Su’s house was always a huge ordeal. Her mother’s entire family gathered for the day at one of their houses. Jun, Su’s mother, was stuck hosting more often than not. Su and Mei, their father, and their grandparents all chipped in to get everything ready before Su’s aunts, uncles, cousins, and other grandparents arrived. There was inevitably some last-minute decorating that wasn’t finished when the first wave of relatives arrived.

Jun’s older sister Shui was usually the first to arrive with her husband Ling, and their daughters, Nuo and Wen. Shui would sweep in as elegant and efficient as always and direct her husband and children to assist Su and Mei with the last-minute decorating while she joined Jun and Wei (Su’s father) in the kitchen. Next to arrive were the grandparents and Jun’s younger brother with his wife and three children. Last of all and usually late was Jun’s older brother, Shun, with his son and tiny granddaughter.

The Li household was not built to hold that number of people, so chaos generally ensued. The table was just big enough to fit them all though, and Su loved the moment when everyone finally sat down and breathed a sigh of relief together before starting the meal. It was a moment of peace and love in the midst of chaos, and however silly it would have sounded if she said it out loud, Su appreciated that more than anything.

***

Blaise and his mother usually spent Christmas together, just the two of them. Blaise lived for those moments, though he would never admit it. His mother was not the most likeable person or the most responsible mother on any given day, but for Christmas she put in the effort of making their family seem like an actual family. He appreciated it.

***

“There’s my little lady!” her mother cried when she saw her. Lavender laughed as she was swooped up into the air in a tight hug. “Oh, darling you have to tell me all about your first term! And look how tall you’ve got!” She ruffled her hair. “Just wait ‘til your father sees you! He’s sorry he couldn’t make it to pick you up, but work, you know how it is. Come on, let’s get going. You can tell me all about it on the way home!”

Lavender followed her mother out of the station, chattering happily back and forth as they went.

“And Parvati’s just the best, mum! She’s my best friend! We have so much in common!”

Lavender’s mother looked hurt. “Replaced me already?”

Lavender laughed. “She’s my best friend my age.”

Her mother smiled again. “I’m only teasing. Oh, just wait until you see what I’ve done with the lights this year!”

***

Julian and his parents and brother went caroling every Christmas. Julian had insisted on it when he was eight, and they hadn’t stopped since. Jacob, Julian’s brother, lost some of his enthusiasm as he grew up, but he went anyway because it made Julian happy. Jacob prided himself on being an excellent big brother.

Julian liked singing in general, and he liked making people happy. Caroling was his favorite thing pretty much ever. He asked Zacharias to come along one year, but he said no. Julian wasn’t surprised.

***

Terry stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas for his first year. It was nice. A little lonely without the other Ravenclaw first years, but nice all the same. His parents sent him presents and a card. He ate Christmas dinner in the Great Hall, and it was delicious. He spent most of the day reading by the fire in the common room.

The next year he went home because of the whole Chamber of Secrets disaster. He still spent most of the day reading by the fire, but the food wasn’t quite as good. The same thing happened the next year, though the reason he went home was actually because his parents wanted him there to see his grandfather.

Fourth year was the Yule Ball, which was a fantastic time. The day leading up to it was cheerful and noisy and full of games and random bursts of off-key singing. He went to the ball with Su, and they, Anthony, Kevin, and Stephen spent most of the night together, dancing and talking. It was the best Christmas Terry had ever had.

The next year, Terry spent the majority of Christmas Day at Mike’s place. Mike’s parents were almost as pleased to have him as Terry was to be there. Mike seemed to have convinced them that Terry’s parents were visiting other relatives. Terry was grateful for the excuse. He did not feel like explaining his relationship with his parents to Mr. and Mrs. Corner. He had only really explained it to Mike and Tony at the end of third year.

Terry and Mike spent their Christmas in sixth year at Hogwarts. They were among the minority of students who had done so, but Mike’s issues with his parents were at their peak, and Terry would take a Hogwarts Christmas with Mike over Christmas at home with his parents any day.

***

Pansy’s Christmases were loud. She had four siblings, all with very strong personalities. This led to some interesting dinner conversations when they all ate together. Arguments might have been the better word. Pansy was frequently annoyed, but her mother and little brother were good peace-keepers, so there was usually no lasting harm done.

***

Christmas at Megan’s was cozy. Throughout her childhood, it was usually her, her parents, her older sister Gwyneth and her younger brother Bran. Christmas Day was full of presents, lots of food, hot chocolate, and snowball fights. The days before and after were more of the same, but often with the addition of various aunts, uncles, and cousins.

***

Morag had invited Kevin over for every Christmas since they met. Kevin always declined, saying he needed to go home and spend time with his dad. Morag had invited both of them, but Kevin was still hesitant. He and his dad were very close, and Morag knew they needed time together, but she wished Kevin would come. Finally, in sixth year, she got her wish. Kevin and his father were coming for Christmas.

Morag’s parents were ecstatic. They adored Kevin and his father, had since they met on the platform in Morag’s first year. Jack was a Muggle, and though he had taken the news of magic fairly well, he was still getting used to things like invisible platforms. Rob and Jean had offered to help him find his son, and they were delighted when they found that his son was the small boy attached to their daughter.

Now Rob and Jean were doing their best to prepare the most spectacular Christmas they could manage. Will was slightly less enthusiastic. He loved family time and hated cleaning. Nevertheless, he was looking forward to seeing Jack and Kevin. He hadn’t seen them since he left school three years ago.

Morag was positively giddy. She flew around the house like a small tornado, cleaning and making more mess in equal measure.

December 22 came, and at one o’clock the MacDougals were sitting anxiously in the living room, waiting. Morag sat next to the window and kept glancing out of it every few seconds. At 1:03 she heard a car rumbling down the road outside. She leapt to her feet, dropping the book she had barely been pretending to read onto the coffee table.

“I hear them!” She tore out of the room, shoved her boots on, and wrenched open the front door as the car pulled into the drive. “KEVIN!” she yelled as he got out of the car. He barely had time to close the door before Morag barreled into him and swooped him into a hug.

“Morag, air,” he gasped. She let go. “We’ve only been apart for about four days,” he pointed out, but he was grinning too.

With a great deal of hugging and joking and a few bruises, the MacDougals and their guests got the luggage out of the car and into the spare bedroom.

Then the celebrations began. Jean was a terrible cook, and usually it was up to Will and Rob to at least make something edible, but with Jack there, it seemed they would actually have a really good Christmas dinner for once. And with Kevin there, Christmas dessert seemed like it would be delicious. He made pies and puddings and cakes and cookies until the pantry was overflowing with baked goods and the whole house was covered in flour.

On Christmas Eve, while Rob helped Jack in the kitchen and Jean gathered and split wood for the fire, Will, Morag, and Kevin dug out the boxes of Christmas ornaments and started decorating the tree. Morag was delighted at how comfortable Kevin seemed to be and how happy Will was despite his previous reservations about having “intruders” for Christmas. Kevin got to put the star on top. He clambered onto Morag’s back to reach. It took some doing, but he got it on fairly straight in the end. Rob, Jean, and Jack came in to look when they were done. All agreed that it was a perfect tree, though Morag noticed her mother moving a few of the ornaments around when she thought they weren’t looking.

They sat by the fire that night with cups of cocoa and eggnog and told stories. Morag noticed that Kevin seemed to gravitate towards her mother more than her father or brother. She could understand that. Her mother was fantastic. When it was time for bed, they all said goodnight and dispersed to their various rooms. Morag heard her father talking quietly to Jack in the hallway as she went to close the door. She stood still, listening curiously.

“You know you’re welcome any time, any year,” her father was saying.

“Thank you. I know it can’t be easy, opening up your house like this. But Kevin’s been so excited. So have I for that matter. It’s nice to have a full house on Christmas.”

“Well, any time you want that full house feeling, we’ve certainly got it. The more the merrier.”

“Thanks. Well, off to bed I guess?”

“Goodnight. Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas.”

***

Tracey always went home for the holidays, except for Christmas in her fourth year because the Yule Ball was too good an opportunity to pass up. Her mother understood. Her mother was very understanding. So when Mandy asked if she was staying for the ball, Tracey nodded happily.

“Mum wrote this morning and said it was fine. She’s going to her brother’s for Christmas, and I can go home for Easter instead.”

“Great!” Mandy said cheerfully.

There was an awkward pause. Mandy opened her mouth to speak again, but Tracey interrupted her.

“Do you want to go to the ball together?” she asked quickly.

Mandy’s mouth snapped shut. She spluttered for a moment in shock. “I – I mean – do I – yes, yes of course I want to go with you!”

They stood there awkwardly for a minute. They had reached Mandy’s classroom. Tracey hesitated a moment, then she leaned forward and gave Mandy a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you at dinner!” she said, blushing almost as much as Mandy. She scurried off.

Mandy stood outside the door to the classroom for almost a minute before shaking herself and hurrying inside. She sat down in her usual seat next to Lisa and took out her books. She could feel her face burning as she straightened up. She glanced at Lisa out of the corner of her eye. She was smirking.

“Noooooooooo,” Mandy whined, letting her head fall into her arms. Lisa laughed.

“The entire school saw that, Mandy. You are in for so much teasing,” Lisa said happily.

“I thought none of you approved of Tracey,” Mandy mumbled, turning her head slightly to face her.

“Of course not,” Lisa scoffed, “She’s a Slytherin who always looks like she’s got a stick up her arse so far she could gag on it. I don’t know what you see in her. But that little exchange was still the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“We haven’t even said if we’re going as anything other than friends,” Mandy protested.

Lisa scoffed again. “I think that was a pretty definite way of saying that you are not going as friends.”

Mandy’s cheeks burned.

***

Dean’s Christmases were fairly normal, which he loved. Most of his life was magic and estranged fathers and other weird stuff. It was nice to have a cheerful, bright, noisy Christmas with his mother, his stepdad, and his sisters.

***

Linda got a lot of useful or academic presents every year. So did her sister. That was how her parents did things. Linda didn’t mind. Louise did. Because Linda realized that Louise was bothered by the lack of frivolous presents their parents purchased, she always tried to get her something she wanted rather than something necessary. Louise appreciated it, though she had difficulty showing it.

***

Stephen stepped off the train almost directly into the arms of his mother and was almost deafened by his sister’s squeals.

“STEPHEN! HAPPY CHRISTMAS!” Abigail squirmed her way into the hug. Stephen and his parents laughed.

“How was your first term?” his father asked, ruffling his hair.

“It was great!” Stephen said happily. “I’m glad to be going home for Christmas though. I’ve missed all of you.”

“I missed you too!” Abigail said as they got Stephen’s trunk off the train. “You have to tell me everything; your letters weren’t detailed enough.”

Later that night, Abigail snuck into Stephen’s room when they were supposed to be sleeping.

“Stephen?”

“Yeah, Abby?”

“I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too. What are you doing up?”

Abigail closed the door behind her and clambered onto Stephen’s bed. “I missed you,” she repeated, “So I made a decision.”

“Yeah? What?”

“You’re going to spend every Christmas with me forever,” she said solemnly.

Stephen smiled sleepily and pulled back the covers to let Abigail in. “Sure, Abby. Sounds good.”

***

Lucy went home every Christmas with the sole exception of her fourth year when she stayed for the Yule Ball. If she could have, she would have stayed at Hogwarts every Christmas, but she felt it was her responsibility to her mother to not leave her alone with her father. It wasn’t so bad anyway, he worked for most of the break and even made attempts to be civil on the day itself. Her Christmases were usually quiet and spent in her room or in the kitchen with her mother.

***

“Susan, I was wondering,” Ernie began, “if perhaps you’d like to go to the Yule Ball with me?” He waited, gauging her reaction.

She looked at him oddly for a moment, but then she smiled. “Of course, I’d love to. As friends?”

“Of course!”

There was an awkward pause. Then Hannah and Justin flopped into seats on either side of them. “You two started that Herbology essay yet?” Justin asked, apparently oblivious to their furiously red faces.

“Started, yes. Written more than two sentences, no,” Susan said.

“It’s due tomorrow, and it’s our last bit of homework before the holidays,” Justin said, “We can do this.” He pulled out some parchment and a quill and wrote the header. “So, Hannah, since these two are clearly going to the ball together, why not make it even? Come with me? As friends?”

Hannah smiled, ignoring Ernie and Susan’s stammering. “That would be lovely.”

***

Seamus’s favorite part of Christmas was the part when he and his parents would sit in the living room in sleepy silence at the end of the day and watch some old Christmas movie together. Usually it was a version of A Christmas Carol. His dad loved it.

The rest of the day was pretty good too, but presents were often disappointing because his father never actually knew what to get him. He didn’t know much about the magical world and liked it that way. Shopping for his parents was difficult too. He couldn’t get his father anything magical, and his mother just never seemed to need or want anything in particular. It was very frustrating.

Still, gifts weren’t the only important part of Christmas, and just being with his parents was enough for him.

***

When Sally-Anne was four years old, her parents took her to see The Nutcracker for Christmas. Tiny Sally-Anne had been absolutely delighted and enthralled by the dancing. That Spring, her parents signed her up for ballet lessons. The next year, she got her very own ballet slippers for Christmas. As she grew, ballet never lost its appeal. She moved on to tap, then ballroom, then folk, and finally modern. But though she stopped dancing it herself when she grew up to find that she was built entirely wrong, she always loved to watch ballet. And though modern was her new preferred form of dance, she kept up her ballet techniques too. Just in case.

***

Lisa spent the run-up to Christmas every year searching for the perfect present for her big brother. He was difficult to shop for. Galen liked Quidditch, but gifts of that nature tended to be expensive and he already had most of the Quidditch merchandise there was. Their parents actually supported Galen’s love of Quidditch, and it was about the only thing they did support. Galen liked reading, but usually he preferred fiction, which their parents didn’t really like either. Plus, Lisa never knew which books Galen had, didn’t have, liked, didn’t like. It was confusing and annoying. Galen also liked food of course, but Lisa a) couldn’t cook to save her life and b) wanted to get him something more memorable and personal than food.

Over the years, she got him a wide variety of presents, and they were all appreciated, but they were never quite perfect. Then when she was fourteen, Galen moved out and stopped coming back for Christmas. She sent him presents and letters for two years with increasing desperation to find something right.

Then, when she was sixteen, she figured it out. The perfect present.

“GALEN!” she shouted as she hammered on the door to his flat. “Happy Christmas! Open up it’s your favorite little sister!” She heard him grumble indistinctly as he shuffled to the door. He opened it, dressed in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, his hair sticking up in every direction.

“Lisa? What are you doing here? It’s nine in the morning.”

“Which means you should be all ready for the day,” Lisa said, shouldering past him into the living room and dumping her pile of parcels at the base of Galen’s scrawny but well-decorated tree. “I’ve been up for hours, big brother. Mum and Dad say Happy Christmas by the way, and they have sent their love via material goods and some food I’m pretty sure you don’t like.”

Galen rolled his eyes. “Sounds about right.”

“Yes, well…” Lisa pursed her lips. “Are you going to make breakfast or not? You know I can’t make anything. Hop to, big brother.”

Galen shuffled off to the kitchen, still yawning, and Lisa followed him.

“And as for what I’m doing here, you said I could come any time, and I’ve come for Christmas. You’re welcome.”

Galen laughed. “Thanks. I thought you’d write ahead though. I would have…I dunno…woken up maybe?”

It was Lisa’s turn to laugh. “As if. Anyway, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to come until last night. It’s not as though I really need Mum and Dad’s permission, but it makes getting out of the house a lot easier.”

“How did you get here?” Galen asked as he started scrambling some eggs.

“Mum and dad dropped me off where I could find a cab, and I figured it out from there.”

Galen raised his eyebrows. “They let their precious little girl into the big city on her own?”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Their precious little girl has been taking every available form of martial arts since she was four. She can take care of herself, no matter how much they hate to think about it.”

“And why did you decide to come here?”

“I miss you. And I thought perhaps you’d like the company. And I got you the best Christmas present ever, so I wanted to be here when you opened it.”

Galen got two plates out of a cupboard and served up the eggs. “Oh really?”

“Absolutely, but first we have to finish breakfast.”

They ate quickly and dumped their dirty dishes in the sink to clean later. Then they went back to the living room and started opening presents.

When Galen got to Lisa’s present, she watched nervously. She had thought that the present was perfect, but now that the moment had come, all of her certainty had vanished.

“I…I hope you like it,” she said. He smiled, and she took it to mean that he would of course like anything she gave him, but that wasn’t really what she wanted to hear.

Galen tore off the wrapping paper to reveal…a book. The cover was red leather, and the pages were thick. He opened it and gasped.

“Lisa, how?”

“I got Morag to help with some of the writing. And the layout. I’ve been saving photographs since I was five, but I never knew what to do with them.”

“Sir Galen the Bold rescues the Lady Lisa from the Evil Queen Mary?” Galen read, amused.

“Aunt Mary is a horrible woman, and you know it. And you did save me. See how happy I look? That’s because you were making silly faces behind the camera. Which is probably why Aunt Mary looks so unhappy, now I think of it.” She paused as he flipped through the pages. “Do you like it?”

Galen nodded. “I do. I really, really do. Thank you.”

Lisa grinned and hugged him.

“My present for you is going to be so lame by comparison now,” Galen complained. Lisa laughed.

***

Quisilla’s first Christmas back in Russia felt lonely. She got all the presents a sixteen-year-old witch could want, but her father kept having to work, and her mother was sick with a cold. Quisilla really just wanted Lucy to keep her company. But Lucy was in England, and Quisilla was in Russia.

 

***

Parvati and Padma didn’t really celebrate Christmas. Parvati rather liked Christmas, and she would have liked to celebrate it in some way, but Padma figured it was a little too weird. They had been raised with Hinduism. Christmas wasn’t a part of their tradition.

Still, she could admit to being curious and occasionally jealous. Christmas seemed like a lot of fun. And it did have origins in the pagan tradition. It made sense to Padma that in this part of the world with this climate, one should celebrate the returning of the light.

So she decided to work some parts of the Yule tradition into her own life when she grew up. Lighting candles, singing, gathering with friends, decorating the house with evergreens. Religious or not, Padma decided that those customs were worthwhile.

Parvati ended up celebrating Christmas when she was older. She didn’t celebrate the religious part personally, but like Padma, she appreciated some of the less biblical traditions. Her husband had been raised Christian, and they decided that their household would be a mixture of traditions, though individually they mostly kept to their own. It was confusing at times and required a lot of work, but that was what marriage was like.

***

Zacharias Smith was furious when he discovered that his parents had been lying about Father Christmas. His mother had always told him that honesty was the most important thing, and all this time they had been lying. When he discovered the truth (his older cousin told him at Easter) he refused to speak to them for three hours. For a six year old, this was a long time.

Later, he understood of course. He grew out of it, figured out that Father Christmas was one of those lies that all parents told. He forgave them. But he decided that if he had children one day, he wasn’t going to lie to them like that.

***

Theodore was a proud, stubborn, somewhat damaged boy. He thought that probably just made the gesture that much more meaningful, but he would only be able to feel good about that if Sophie didn’t laugh in his face.

Yes, Sophie Roper the Hufflepuff who wasn’t a pureblood or particularly extraordinary in any way except that Theodore Nott liked her. Not romantically or anything, no. That would just be weird. But the fact that he could not only tolerate but genuinely enjoy her company was a remarkable achievement.

Anyway, Theodore was pretty sure she wouldn’t judge him. He was just being ridiculous. He’d heard her rants on gender roles before. Sophie wasn’t the type to reject him just because of this. They had been friends for five years now. Surely she wouldn’t stop liking him just because…well, he’d have to wait and see.

“Roper, could I have a word?” he asked, doing his best to ignore the suspicious glances sent his way by her Hufflepuff friends. She nodded and followed him to an empty corridor.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I have something for you. A Christmas present.”

Sophie looked astonished, which irritated Theodore slightly. He wasn’t that unfeeling.

“You shouldn’t have,” she said, even as she took the parcel from him.

He smirked. “Don’t be too grateful until you’ve opened it. Go on.”

Sophie ripped apart the wrappings. Inside was a matching set of hat, scarf, and mittens.

“They’re charmed to be water-proof too,” Theodore said as Sophie examined them, looking delighted. “I wasn’t entirely sure if the mittens would fit either, so you may need to shrink them a bit, but they should be about right.”

Sophie looked up, surprised. “You made these?” Theodore nodded. “You knit?” Theodore nodded again. “You, Theodore Nott, knit.”

“Yes! Jesus, you don’t have to tell the whole school.”

“This is wonderful!” Sophie said, putting the hat on despite the warmth inside the castle. “Thank you so much!”

“Yeah…well,” Theodore said uncomfortably, “Just…don’t tell anyone I made them. I’d rather keep my sense of dignity intact.”

Sophie laughed somewhat condescendingly. “Oh you people with your fragile sense of masculinity and inability to see past traditional gender roles.” She shook her head fondly. “Thank you. Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas.”


	13. Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Patil Twins and some stuff about their lives

Parvati and Padma had never liked Pansy. Their parents knew each other though, so they were often forced into company with her. Pansy was rude, gossipy, and clearly had some issues with Muggles and Muggle-borns. But she was a girl their age, so Parvati and Padma put up with her. They responded to her rudeness with raised eyebrows and passive-aggressive politeness, which Pansy rarely seemed to pick up on.

This changed, however, when they arrived at Hogwarts. Free from their parents’ watchful eyes, Parvati, Padma, and Pansy allowed their dislike to show clearly for the first time. It was a wonderful feeling, to be able to talk back when Pansy was rude to their classmates. Of course, it meant Pansy was more aggressively rude to them as well, but they could put up with that.

***

Parvati and Lavender became best friends almost instantly. They had shared interests and similar senses of humor, and who really needed anything more? Padma didn’t bond with Lavender as much as Parvati, but they got along alright most of the time. Padma was much more pragmatic than Parvati or Lavender, which could lead to conflicts, but the three girls generally got along very well.

Padma had her own friends in her own house too. She and Su were quite close, and Terry was great. She got along well with all of her classmates in her house actually. Mandy’s incessant cheerfulness got on her nerves sometimes, but other than that, she was happy with her house.

***

Parvati’s earliest memory was with Padma and her grandfather. She couldn’t remember details, but she must have been about two years old. She and Padma were sitting on their grandfather’s lap listening to stories and attempting to act them out with dolls. In Parvati’s memory they were in the big armchair in the living room. It was dark outside, but inside was light and warmth and family. Whenever she had trouble sleeping, she reconstructed that memory in her mind’s eye. Her grandfather, her sister, firelight, stories, comfort.

***

Padma could not understand Parvati’s love for Divination. It was unreliable and pointless. The future would happen, and trying to figure out what would happen by studying signs in tea leaves and crystal balls was impossible. Still, Parvati insisted that it was a great subject.

***

Parvati and Padma didn’t want to go home early. They wanted to stay at Hogwarts for Dumbledore’s funeral. But it had been hard enough convincing their parents to let them stay for the year. Now that Dumbledore was gone, there was no way they wouldn’t be forced to go home. Parvati was crying when she hugged Lavender goodbye, but when she and Padma met their parents in the Entrance Hall to go home, her face was dry and her expression was stony. Her mother sighed when Parvati and Padma remained surly for the entire journey home.

“You do know that we’re only making you come home because we’re worried, don’t you?” she said.

Parvati and Padma nodded but remained unhappy.

“It’s not the end of the world, sweethearts. You’ll still get your education. Your father and I will make sure of that. And you can still write to your friends whenever you want.”

“Can Lavender come and visit?” Parvati asked bitterly.

“…We’ll see. I’d love for her to be able to visit, but with everything going on it may not be possible.”

Parvati crossed her arms and looked away.

***

Parvati and Lavender looked around the dormitory sadly. Hermione’s bed was still there, but there was no overstuffed trunk full of books. Her clothes would not be hung neatly in her wardrobe. There would be no light peeking through the cracks in the hangings as she read late into the night.

Lavender closed the curtains around the bed.

(They would not be opened until the next year.)

 

Padma, Su, Morag, Lisa, and Mandy sat in a circle in the middle of the dormitory. Padma looked around at them all, grateful beyond words that they were still there.

“Morag…” Mandy said hesitantly, “have you heard from Kevin?”

“He’s in Azkaban,” Morag said dully. “His dad wrote to me, said they showed up at the house and dragged him off.”

Mandy put a comforting arm around Morag’s shoulders.

“Is his dad okay?” Lisa asked.

Morag shrugged. “So far he’s as close to okay as he could be. Kevin’s his only family, you know? But he’s keeping in touch so we know he’s still alive.”

“Well that’s good at least,” Lisa said. Morag nodded.

“I saw the Creevey boys at the feast,” Su said, eager to change the topic to something slightly less painful, “I thought they were Muggle borns. How did they get in?”

“They must have faked their family tree,” Padma said, fear creeping into her voice. “Why wouldn’t they just go into hiding?”

“Maybe they couldn’t,” Lisa suggested, “Maybe they wouldn’t. They’re Gryffindors after all.”

For a few minutes they sat there together, enveloped in the oppressive silence of fear and deep thought.

“I’m going to bed,” Morag said finally, standing up. The other girls followed suit.


	14. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As per request, here is some stuff about Dean Thomas!

“Seamus, did you steal my pencils again?”

“Oh, yeah. I wanted to write a draft of my essay first and quills are hard.” Seamus dug around in the mess on his bedside table and found three pencils, which he tossed to Dean. Dean caught one, but the other two clattered to the floor and rolled under Dean’s bed.

“Seamus, be careful with those! I’m already writing home for more every two weeks,” Dean said, lying half-underneath the bed in his attempts to retrieve the pencils, “At this rate, we’ll be in some kind of pencil-debt by second year.”

“Right, sorry. I mean you could just repair them if they break.”

“But not if they get lost. And at the rate you’re using them, I’d need more anyway. Why don’t you ask for some yourself?”

Seamus laughed. “Because that’s an unnecessary collision of magical and Muggle worlds and would therefore result in an argument or the destruction of all order in the world. Or both.”

Dean emerged from under the bed, all three pencils clutched safely in his hand, and raised his eyebrows. “They’re pencils.”

Seamus shrugged. “They’re my parents.”

***

Dean was the calm one in their dorm. That was his role, and he was generally quite happy in it. He wasn’t as reckless or angry as Seamus and Harry. He wasn’t as insecure as Ron or Neville. He had been the steady rock of the group for four years. But even his patience had its limits, and there were occasional lapses.

Seamus versus Ron, Battle of Who Even Knows Now It’s All Just Insults.

While Ron and Seamus fumed at each other, Harry and Neville looked lost and confused. They seemed to decide that taking refuge with Dean was a good idea. However, this meant that Dean’s bed was occupied by three people and there wasn’t enough room for him to stretch and go to sleep like he so desperately wanted to. So Dean stood up and walked over to Seamus.

“Seamus. Apologize. Now.”

Seamus looked up at him, shocked and offended. “But-”

“I don’t give a fuck. You both apologize to each other and GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!”

Ignoring the startled gasps (Dean rarely shouted, swore even less, and almost never did both at once), Dean went back to his bed, shooed Neville and Harry away, and drew the curtains. He could hear quiet talking outside, and it sounded enough like an apology for him.

***

Dean hadn’t known it was possible to feel this miserable within a magical infirmary. He supposed it was stupid to think that wizards had a cure for everything, but he had expected a fairly quick cure for the flu. Apparently though, magic could only do so much, and he was confined to bed for at least another night of misery. Another wave of nausea hit him at that moment and he leaned over the edge of the bed, prepared to vomit again into the self-cleaning bucket that had been placed there. The nausea passed seconds later and he lay back against his pillows feeling wretched.

The door opened and Dean turned to see Madam Pomfrey hurrying to help the new patient. A moment later he heard Seamus’s voice, slurred and exhausted but still instantly recognizable.

Dean sat up and watched Madam Pomfrey lead him over to the bed next to him.

“Hey, Seamus,” he said hoarsely.

“Hi,” Seamus replied sounding just as miserable.

Dean didn’t say anything while Madam Pomfrey fussed and tutted and gave Seamus some medicine. When she was gone, he grinned sheepishly.

“I got you sick, didn’t I?”

Seamus pouted. “Yes.”

“Sorry.”

***

“MUM!” Dean shouted down the stairs.

“WHAT?”

“WHEN’S DINNER?”

“HALF AN HOUR,” she shouted back over the squeals and shrieks of Dean’s younger sisters.

“OKAY, THANKS.”

Dean shut the door to his bedroom and returned to his book. He could wait half an hour. Going down earlier would mean getting roped into his sisters’ game, and he was not quite energetic enough for that.

***

The newspaper lay on the bed, the black and white text spelling out impossible headlines and articles to make readers’ blood run cold. Next to it was a letter, unopened and official-looking. The room around the bed was in quiet chaos. Clothing lay crumpled on the floor next to heaps of books and parchment. Quills, pencils, and pens were strewn about the room at random. In one corner there was a large backpack, engaged at that moment in a wrestling match with the room’s only occupant, who was trying to cram another can of soup into the already over-stuffed outer pocket.

With a final yank on the zipper, Dean finished his packing. He looked around the room in case he had forgotten anything. His eyes fell on the stack of letters on his desk. He couldn’t leave those lying around, so he stuffed them into the last remaining space in his backpack. Then he gathered his things and tiptoed out into the hallway and down the stairs.

“Dean?”

Dean froze halfway down the stairs and swore mentally. Then he slowly turned around.

“Go back to bed, Sally,” he whispered. His youngest sister stood at the top of the stairs, frowning at him. She was ten years old and smarter than any ten-year-old had a right to be if you asked Dean.

“Where are you going? Why do you have so much stuff?” She talked quietly, but Dean knew that could change any second.

He sighed. “I’m going away for a while, Sally. I’ve got to.”

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, “But in the mean time, you look after yourself, okay?”

Sally frowned. “Where are you going?”

Dean hesitated. “I…I’m going to stay with friends for a bit. But I’ll be back. You believe me, don’t you?”

“Yes. Does Mum know?”

Dean swallowed. “Not yet. But I’ve left her a letter explaining. You won’t wake her up, will you, Sal?”

Sally looked thoughtful. “…No. But you’ve got to come back and give me a thank you present for this,” she said loftily. “That’s the deal.”

Dean smiled. “Okay. I’ll bring you the best present ever if you forget the rest of this conversation happened.”

“Okay.” Sally smiled back. “Hug?”

Dean nodded and Sally threw her arms around his waist as best she could with the backpack in the way.

“Come back soon,” she whispered.

Dean felt a lump rise in his throat. He bent down to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll try,” he whispered back. “Goodnight, Sally.” 

It was well past midnight when Dean Thomas left the little house. He closed the front door quietly and hoped that no one he knew was out. This part of London usually had a few stragglers out at all hours, but these days things were dangerous, and with any luck his movements would go undetected. Also with any luck he wasn’t being followed. But he wouldn’t be surprised.

He walked quickly, glancing over his shoulder every now and then just in case. He didn’t see anyone, and by the time he reached his destination, he was thinking his plan might just work. He arrived at the park at one o’clock exactly, which he decided to take as a good sign despite its complete irrelevance. He looked around once again and Disapparated.

_Dear Mum,_

_If you take a look at page 2 of that newspaper, you’ll probably know why I’ve gone. I’m safe for now. I’ve got some food and supplies. Don’t try to contact me, and if anyone comes looking, tell them I ran off and you have no idea why. Better yet, get out of the country. Take Dad and the girls too. If you need anything, Seamus and his family will help. My love to you, Dad, Rosa, Martha, and Sally._

_-Dean_

_P.S. Burn this immediately._

***

Dean sat by his tiny campfire and tried to warm his fingers. He was cold, he was hungry, and he was scared and lonely. Overall, it wasn’t a good day. He hadn’t really had a good day for weeks. Every little twig snapping sounded suspicious, and his tent wasn’t holding up nearly as well as he had hoped. To top it all off, there was barely any dry wood around. His fire wasn’t doing a good job at warming his fingers, and his warming charms had never been the best. He found himself longing, not for the first or last time, for the Gryffindor common room with its roaring fireplace and Seamus’s arms around him. He shivered. There was no point wishing. He had seen Seamus in July and told him that he would probably be gone. Seamus was smarter than he seemed. Now Dean just needed to survive until he could return.

Another twig snapped nearby and Dean turned quickly, his wand raised. It wasn’t his imagination this time. Someone was coming.

“Who’s there?” he called to the darkness.

“Who’s there?” a man replied. He didn’t sound malicious, but rather just as wary as Dean was.

“Come out where I can see you. I’m armed,” Dean said, trying to sound less scared than he felt.

“Alright, boy. No need for alarm.” A shortish man with a round belly and fair hair stepped into the firelight. His wand was in his hand too, but it was pointed at the ground. “From what I can see of you, I think we’re friends in this.”

Dean lowered his wand slightly. “Who are you? What are you doing out here?”

“Ted Tonks. I believe I’m out here for the same reason you are. Muggle-born?”

Dean lowered his wand the rest of the way. “Probably. Dean Thomas.” He stuck out his hand, and Ted shook it.

“Well, Dean, you look like you could use a bit of company. Us outcasts have to stick together, don’t you think?”

Dean studied Ted’s face carefully. It was an open, honest face. Not exactly handsome or remarkable. Just…honest. Plain. Cheerful. Dean nodded. “Alright. You have a tent? Mine’s a Muggle one, and a pretty shabby Muggle one at that.”

Ted nodded and started unpacking. “I was hoping to set up camp before it got dark, but everywhere I went seemed like Snatchers might’ve been through.”

“Snatchers?”

Ted blinked. “Bounty hunters looking for Muggle-borns and other Undesirables.”

Dean’s eyes widened.

“How long have you been out here, son?”

“I left the day after they announced the Muggle-born Registration thing. My dad left when I was a baby, but I have no idea if he was a wizard or not, and on top of that I’ve been friends and roommates with Harry Potter for the past six years. Things weren’t looking good for me, so I figured I’d better get lost. How long did you stay?”

“Until a couple days ago actually. My wife’s a Pureblood, so I figured that might keep me safe for a little while. But with Death Eaters in the area, it was time to get out.”

Dean nodded and started helping Ted unpack. Within a few hours, they had the tent up and most of their things moved in. It was at least warmer. As Dean settled into a proper bed for the first time in months, he sighed quietly. There may or may not have been safety in numbers, but there was definitely some comfort. He closed his eyes and fell asleep and dreamed of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter was difficult to write. Hope you liked it, and I'll be updating again on Valentine's Day!


	15. Valentines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day in sixth year, some people have plans, some people don't.

Stephen met Lisa in the common room on the morning of February the fourteenth. They had agreed not to do anything too special, but he had dressed with extra care, and he noticed that she seemed to have done the same. Her hair had been set free from its usual tight ponytail and hung loose around her shoulders. Stephen bowed and presented her with a bouquet of flowers. She laughed and took them, handing him a box of chocolates in return.

“Shall we?” he said, offering his arm. She took it, grinning, and they went down to breakfast together.

 

Kevin made gagging noises as Stephen ate off Lisa’s fork. She flicked his ear, and he laughed. “What? You two are disgusting.”

“We’re adorable,” Stephen contradicted him, “And you helped set us up.” 

Kevin sighed dramatically. “A lifetime of regret awaits.”

 

Stephen, Lisa, Terry, and Anthony were attempting to study in the common room. Lisa kept fidgeting, and Stephen kept reading the same line over and over again.

“Stephen?” Lisa said finally.

“Yeah?”

“Remember that thing we were going to do? Isn’t that about now?” she asked, holding eye contact with him.

“Oh, yeah, of course! We should probably go!” Stephen said, standing up and letting his book fall shut.

“Let’s.”

They practically ran away.

Terry raised an eyebrow at Anthony. “They’re not very subtle, are they?”

Anthony shrugged. “They’re young and in love on Valentine’s Day. Can’t blame them.”

“I suppose not. Have you seen Mike? I thought he was supposed to help us with this essay.”

“I’m pretty sure he and Bradley have locked themselves in a broom cupboard somewhere,” Anthony said.

Terry blinked. “Oh. Way to go, Mike. Do you think it’s serious? Or do they just want a shag?”

“The latter, probably.”

“Well, here’s hoping this ends well.”

“And we don’t have to hear about it,” Anthony added.

***

Mandy and Tracey didn’t see each other until lunchtime on Valentine’s Day. When Mandy arrived and saw Tracey waiting for her, she wasted no time running to her side. Mandy smiled. Tracey gave her a quick kiss as they sat down next to each other. Mandy saw several of their classmates giving them odd looks, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Hi,” she said quietly.

“Hi,” Tracey said back. “I don’t think your friends are very happy about our relationship.”

Mandy shrugged. “What else is new? Interhouse relationships create friction, especially with your house. They’ll come ‘round eventually. Sooner rather than later if you smile more,” she added pointedly.

Tracey had to work to keep a straight face. “Never.”

Mandy giggled. “Smiiiiile, Tracey. Smile for me. Do it. Come on. Oh, I see it. It’s coming. It’s definitely a smile!”

Tracey couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You’re ruining my reputation,” she grumbled good-naturedly.

“Your reputation is terrible, sweetie,” Mandy said honestly, “It needs me to ruin it.”

Morag, who had been listening to this exchange, rolled her eyes. It was like they were trying to make everyone around them throw up from how cute they were being.

***

“I’m over him,” Susan announced when she arrived in the dormitory to find Hannah sitting there. Hannah looked up.

“Er…what?”

“I am officially over Michael Corner.”

“Oh…great!”

“I saw him and Richard Bradley sneaking off together and I just thought to myself, ‘Susan, he’s never going to like you back and you deserve better.’ So now I am over him.”

Hannah looked skeptical.

“I am though. So who else is cute? What have I missed in my two years of pining?”

***

Jack Sloper was running late again. This was not unusual for him, but running late on Valentine’s Day was different. He sprinted down corridors and barreled through doors, at last arriving outside the empty classroom he and Sally-Anne had decided on earlier. He took a brief moment to fix his hair and opened the door. Sally-Anne was already there, humming along with the old phonograph as she waltzed around the room with an invisible partner.

“Hi,” Jack said breathlessly.

She stopped dancing and they moved towards each other. She had to bend slightly to kiss him, which Jack might have found irritating at one point, but now found endearing.

“Ready? I thought we’d start with waltz,” Sally-Anne said. Jack nodded. He had been hesitant about this date idea at first, but Sally-Anne was so excited he couldn’t say no. Besides, this would allow him to understand maybe a fraction of what she was talking about when she complained about difficulties in dancing. “Ballroom isn’t my forte exactly,” she reminded him, “But I think I know enough that we could dance at parties or something. And it’ll be fun.”

***

Sophie still liked him. She thought he probably still liked her too. But she knew why she broke up with him, and she knew they couldn’t get back together. He had been hurt, and she had been miserable about it, and all in all, their relationship had ended in a big mess of emotions and hurt feelings. They maintained their friendship to some extent, but it was impossible to go back.

“Sophie, you’re staring,” Megan said. Sophie blinked and turned guiltily back to her. They were in the common room, attempting to do homework at one of the tables in the corner. Megan rolled her eyes. “You have a problem.”

“I can’t help it,” Sophie mumbled, letting her head fall into her arms. “I know we ended badly, but I still like him, Megan. I do.”

Megan smiled sympathetically. “Valentine’s Day has its drawbacks doesn’t it?” she mused, leaning back in her chair. Sophie nodded vehemently. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure he still likes you.”

“It doesn’t.”

They sat there in silence for a while, Megan writing her Charms essay, Sophie brooding.

“I think if I hadn’t been so scared and whatever else I was, maybe we would have been really good together,” Sophie said.

“You were good together,” Megan said, “But you were scared, and Justin couldn’t make you see that there was nothing to be afraid of. It didn’t work out. You could try again or you could move on.”

Sophie glanced across the common room again. Justin was sitting by the fire with Ernie and Hannah. He looked gloomier than usual.

“Do you really think we could try again after that?” she asked.

Megan shrugged. “Up to you two.”

Sophie sighed. “I don’t think I can. I don’t know if I could get over it.”

“Then move on.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Well, if you don’t move on, you’ll be this gloomy sad sack for the rest of your life, and I’m betting that’s even harder. It’ll take time, but you’ll get through it.”

“How do you always have relationship advice? You haven’t dated anyone.”

“No, but I’ve been around you lot for the past six years. I’m not stupid.”

***

Julian met Thomas in the Entrance Hall before breakfast. Which, for Thomas, was after eleven o’clock. He was nervous, but he was fairly confident Thomas wouldn’t take it badly. It was just the possibility that he wouldn’t take it as well as he wanted him to.

“Hey, Thomas.”

“Hi, Julian. What’s up?”

“Oh, you know. Valentine’s Day.”

Thomas looked at him questioningly. “I thought you were single?”

“That could change.”

“You’re asking someone out? Who?” Thomas asked curiously.

“Well…you.”

“…Wait what?”

“Be my valentine?”

Thomas laughed. “You’re so…cheesy!”

“Is that…”

“It’s a yes, you big weirdo! Now come eat breakfast with me, I’m starving!” Thomas took Julian by the hand and dragged him into the Great Hall.

***

Stephen returned to the dormitory shortly before curfew looking slightly disheveled. Terry, Anthony, and Kevin were all there, and they looked up as he entered. There was a pause in which the three of them looked at Stephen and Stephen looked back, turning redder and redder by the second.

Kevin was smirking. “You know, if you go any redder, your cheeks are going to match those lipstick smears.”

“Oh, shut up.”

At that moment, the door opened and Michael entered the room. His hair was sticking out at odd angles, and his shirt was on inside out. Unlike Stephen however, he didn’t look remotely embarrassed. “You know, I think there is something Richard Bradley’s better at than Quidditch,” he said cheerfully.

“Shut up, Corner.”

Mike grinned mischievously. “I mean, I suppose he’s had plenty of practice handling b-”

He was cut off as four people simultaneously tackled him to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so fun and so difficult to write. Romance is not usually my thing for writing, but I had some cute couples I wanted to show off, so I figured Valentine's Day would be the perfect time to do it! Hope you all have a great day, single or not. I for one am having Treat Yo Self Day. Let me know what you thought in comments!


	16. Triptych 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mystery of why Terry is the way he is and why he likes Hogwarts better than home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write! But I think I managed to do the idea justice in the end. I hope. Probably. Do let me know!

Terry rarely participated in conversations about their home lives. He simply felt that he had nothing of interest to contribute. His memories of home were blank and cold. His parents were there sometimes. More often there was a housekeeper or a nanny. There were books, lots of books. But mostly there were empty rooms and long silences. There were expectations and lessons and rules. On some rare occasions there were dinner parties where he would talk to other children his age. He found them fascinating, but they usually found him boring after a few minutes. Most young children didn’t care much for magical theory.

Going to Hogwarts for the first time was the beginning of what Terry would consider his actual life. Meeting Michael and Anthony was where everything began. He felt attachment stronger than he had ever felt to anyone else, and he loved it.

His parents sent him letters occasionally to make sure he was doing alright. They asked about classes and if he was getting along with the other children. He told them he was doing well and making friends, and they wrote back sounding satisfied.

Letters were a special occasion for him. Usually he didn’t share their contents with anyone, but Mike and Tony weren’t just anyone.

“Mum and Dad wrote today,” he said one afternoon in December of his third year, “They actually want me to come home for the holidays this year since my grandfather’s coming to visit.”

Mike and Tony exchanged a look Terry couldn’t quite understand. It was the look they usually got when they were figuring out how to pull off a particularly advanced bit of magic.

“That’s great,” Mike said, “But I thought you were going home anyway?”

“No. I wouldn’t normally. But Grandfather doesn’t visit very often, so Mum and Dad want me there to see him.”

Tony watched Terry’s expression as he talked. It was just as calm and collected as usual. “But wouldn’t your parents want you to go home anyway?”

Terry looked surprised at the suggestion. “No, probably not. Anyway, the food here is better.”

“But they must miss you,” Mike said frustratedly, “Or be worried about you. I mean after Sirius Black and everything?”

Terry shrugged. “I doubt it. I’m fourteen years old now. That’s plenty old to spend Christmas away from home. And the castle’s secure enough that I’ll be safe.”

Mike shook his head. “That’s not the point. Fourteen years old is definitely not old enough for your parents to not miss you at Christmas. I’m pretty sure there isn’t an age when it becomes acceptable for parents to not miss their children.”

Terry simply shrugged again. “I guess my family’s different from yours.”

“Terry, that’s not…normal,” Anthony said.

“It’s normal for me.”

“Yes, but it _shouldn’t be_ ,” Mike insisted, “Parents are supposed to want their children around.”

Terry looked skeptical. “It’s not that they never want me around. It’s that they expect me to be okay on my own.”

Mike and Tony exchanged looks again.

“Yeah…that’s not really good either,” Mike said.

“I’m fourteen years old, it’s perfectly reasonable.”

“No, it isn’t,” Anthony said calmly.

“Well, it is to my parents, so that’s that. The _point_ was that I am going home for the holidays, so if you’re writing, you should send letters there.”

“Of course we’re writing,” Mike said indignantly. He didn’t say “Especially now that we know your parents are probably going to leave you on your own most of the time.” But he wanted to.

“Of course,” Anthony agreed, already thinking of strategies and plans to make Terry happier.

“Great. I should probably reply to this now.” Terry strode off to the Owlery.

“Long-term intervention?” Mike asked as soon as he was gone.

Anthony nodded. “Long-term intervention.”

***

Terry made his way up to the Owlery, thinking about what Michael and Anthony had said. He had considered it a little, if he was honest with himself. His classmates’ reactions to their parents were very different from his own, and he had sometimes wondered if theirs were better. They seemed happier, he supposed. But then again, he wasn’t really _un_ happy. But still….

He sat down, took out quill, ink, and parchment, and attempted to write.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

He paused, trying to think what to say. They already knew he was doing well, he didn’t have anything to ask for, and he didn’t really know or care what they were doing as long as they weren’t doing badly. The only thing he had to say was that he agreed to go home.

__~~I’m happy to  
It will be great   
Going home would be lovely~~

_Dear Mum and Dad,_  
Going home for the holidays sounds nice. I look forward to seeing you and Grandfather. Everything is still going well here, and I hope the same for you.  
Your son,  
Terry Boot 

It wasn’t terribly unlike the other letters he had sent, but looking at it, Terry couldn’t help noticing how short it was compared to the ones he saw Anthony writing. He shook his head. Anthony’s parents were smother-ers. It was natural that Anthony’s letters would be longer than Terry’s. He found his owl, tied the letter to his leg, and sent him out.

***

Terry, Michael, and Anthony wrote back and forth a lot over the holidays. Mike wrote about his little brother’s exploits, and Anthony wrote about the various goings-on in his house too. Terry…wasn’t sure what to write. It was strange for him. Writing to Anthony and Michael had always come naturally before, but now he suddenly felt as if he had nothing of interest to add. He could tell them what he got for Christmas and about his grandfather’s visit. He told them about the books he was reading. But mostly he was bored, and that was really nothing to write about.

Then he got a letter from Anthony asking him (and Mike) to come and stay for the last few days of the break. Terry was thrilled. He had met Anthony’s parents before a few times, but the last two summers had been spent separately or at Mike’s house, which had some of its own drawbacks. Spending a few days at Anthony’s sounded wonderful.

That evening when his mother got home, Terry went down to the sitting room when he knew she would be there. He was hesitant to interrupt her reading, but he wanted to get his response to Anthony as soon as he could.

“Mum?”

She held up a finger, indicating that he had to wait until she finished her paragraph. A few moments later, she looked up. “Yes?”

“I had a letter from Anthony this morning, and he’s invited me to stay for the last three days of break. I’d floo to his place on Thursday. Can I go?”

“Well I’d have to ask your father to be completely certain, but I don’t think we had any plans those days. Alright.”

“Great, thanks.” He stood there awkwardly for a moment. Then his mother returned to her book, and he was dismissed.

***

Terry spent Thursday morning double and triple checking that he had everything. His trunk was packed, his owl was already at Anthony’s, and his room was tidy. His parents had said goodbye that morning before work. Terry dragged his luggage downstairs to the fireplace, took some floo powder from the box on the mantel-piece, and threw it into the grate. Moments later, he arrived in the Goldsteins’ kitchen with his trunk.

Anthony and Mike were already there waiting for him. They leaped forward to hug him as soon as he had straightened up.

“Hi,” Terry said, smiling.

“I’m so glad you’re here. Mike’s being stubborn,” Anthony said.

“I’m not stubborn, I’m just right.”

Terry laughed. “What is it now?”

“Michael thinks that the specialization of language usage in spells is completely arbitrary.”

“It is. There is no reason Greek should only be used for healing spells. And no reason you couldn’t duel with Anglo-Saxon or Old English.”

Terry settled in for a nice, long debate.

***

Anthony’s parents entered the kitchen half an hour later. Terry stood up at once.

“Terry, good to see you!” Mrs. Goldstein said, giving him a quick hug, which Terry half-returned.

“Journey okay?” Mr. Goldstein asked.

“Fine,” Terry said, though he thought the fact that he was standing unharmed in their kitchen probably answered the question for him.

“Anthony, why is Terry’s trunk still in the kitchen?” Mr. Goldstein asked, smiling and sounding as though he already knew the answer and didn’t really mind at all.

Anthony grinned. “We got caught up in debating magical theory. Again.”

“Well, show him up to his room, don’t be rude.”

“Alright. Come on, Terry.”

With Anthony and Terry carrying the trunk and Mike making everything as difficult as possible, they eventually made it up to the guest bedroom where Terry and Mike would be staying. They deposited Terry’s trunk at the foot of one of the twin beds.

“Ok, but if it’s a purely psychological bias, it can be unlearned,” Mike said, continuing their earlier conversation with ease.

“But it’s _not_ ,” Anthony countered, “It’s historical and cultural and even somewhat linguistic.”

“Still, there’s no reason they _couldn’t_ …”

***

They debated until they were called down for dinner. Terry was mostly on Anthony’s side, but he thought Mike had a good point too. He was pretty sure Anthony felt the same and was debating for the sake of it. And he thought Mike probably realized that too.

They put the debate on hold and trooped downstairs to eat. Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein were excellent cooks, and Terry ate better than he had since he left Hogwarts. The dining room was bright and cheerful and full of laughter. Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein kept trying to get Terry to call them Solomon and Marguerite. It was strange, but Terry couldn’t really object much. He went to bed that night to the sound of Mike’s soft breathing and low voices from the room next door. It was nice.

The next morning there were pancakes when Terry woke up.

***

The Goldstein household was very different from what Terry was used to. His own house was generally quiet and dull and frequently empty. Anthony’s house, on the other hand, was full of warmth and light and fun. His parents came and went frequently, often checking in on the boys to see if they needed anything. In fact, if Terry didn’t know better, he would have expected Anthony to be sheltered and spoiled by them.

Terry was enjoying it though, so much so that he almost didn’t want to leave when it was time to go back to Hogwarts. Almost. Though it was nice to have adults so actively interested in his life, it felt smothering. So it was with only a twinge of reluctance that he got on the train back to school.

***

The day would go down in Mike and Tony’s collective memory as “The Day of Terry’s Realization.” Terry would remember it as “The Day I Became Angry at the People Who Gave Me Life.” He didn’t share his title for the day until years later though. The catalyst was simple enough. He and Anthony received letters from home on the same day. Anthony’s parents also wrote to Terry and to Mike. Anthony’s letter was a full foot long, and he read it eagerly there at the table. Terry pocketed his own letters, intending to read them after classes.

_Dear Terry,_  
How are you? We know it hasn’t been very long since we saw you last, but we thought you might be interested in the list of book recommendations we’ve attached. Then again, perhaps you’ve read them all already! You have a talent for understanding magical theory, and from what Anthony’s told us and what we’ve seen, you read a lot. Some of the books listed are more obscure though, so we thought we’d recommend them anyway.  
It was lovely to have you and Michael to stay, and any time you feel like coming over, you should feel free to do so! Your parents wrote as well to say that they were grateful to us for having you, and of course we told them it was delightful.  
We hope you have a lovely term, and do let us know what you think of the books!  
Yours,  
Solomon Goldstein & Marguerite Goldstein 

Terry grinned and pulled out the list of books. There were several there that he had already read, but some that he hadn’t that sounded interesting. He would have to write back and thank them. Then he pulled out the letter from his parents.

_Dear Terry,_  
Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein wrote to us on Sunday regarding your behavior during your visit. We were happy to hear that your presence was a pleasure and that you were courteous and helpful. Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein seem to be fine people and you will of course be allowed back if and when they ask.  
We will be sending a package soon with the school supplies you requested, but our work schedules are very busy at the moment, and getting out for additional shopping is difficult.  
Hope you are well,  
-Mum 

Terry stared at his Mother’s signature for a long time, his good mood evaporating. There was an odd sort of ringing in his ears, drowning out Mike’s and Anthony’s voices around him. Slowly, almost dreamlike, he tore the letter down the middle. Anthony and Michael’s voices faltered as they turned around to where he was sitting on his bed, shredding his mother’s letter.

“Terry?” Mike said cautiously.

Terry looked up at him. “I suppose this means you were right, doesn’t it?” he said shortly.

“What?”

“Parents…” Terry hesitated, searching for the right words, as Mike and Tony exchanged nervous looks, “Shouldn’t be like mine,” Terry finished finally. His movements were carefully controlled as he moved to sit on the edge of his bed.

“What happened?” Anthony asked.

“Nothing unusual, really. My parents wrote. It was short and to-the-point. Like always. They hardly ever ask about me, you know? And if they do it’s usually just to ask if I’m doing well in classes. And then to tell me to keep it up and do better.” There was an edge to his voice that had rarely been heard before.

Mike and Tony sat down on either side of him.

“Terry…”

“It’s like no matter what I do, no matter how well I do, I’m always supposed to do better. But not because they care about my future happiness or anything! No! It’s because I’m their son. Their son who they just…just tell him what to do and leave him to do it, and if he hasn’t figured it out by the time you get back, you get all upset. And if there’s nothing you need from him, just leave him alone to figure out what he wants to do! But not this or that, nothing messy or loud or involving you in any way because why would they want to be involved in my life? Know the names of all my friends or what I’m interested in or what I like? Why would they care as long as I’m doing well in school and not interrupting their work? So what if I’m hungry? I’m not starving. I know how to cook. So what if I want to go to Diagon Alley? I know where the floo powder is. Why should they care what I do?”

Terry was breathing heavily. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears. He blinked them back angrily.

“Why the hell did they even have a kid if they didn’t want to deal with one?” he asked bitterly.

Michael and Anthony didn’t know how to respond to that, so they just leaned closer in silent support. Terry smiled weakly.

“I guess it’s good that I can see it now?”

“…I think it is.”

“Maybe not though. I mean, what if I’m just being stupid? I sound like a whiny, attention-seeking child.”

“They’re your _parents_ ,” Mike said, “They’re _supposed_ to give you attention. But…even if they don’t, you’ve got us.”

“Thanks.”

“Besides,” Anthony added, smiling slightly, “If anyone’s the whiny attention-seeker around here, it’s Mike.”

Mike looked indignant for a moment, but then he sighed. “Well, if you two are going to be such absolute saints all the time, somebody has to make up for it.”


	17. Moments (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little scenes from late Hogwarts years

“Seamus, promise me you’ll be careful.”

Seamus looked at his mother’s face and hesitated. He knew what this meant to her. He was her only child, her precious baby boy, and he knew it. She would never be able to let go of him. If he died, she would be devastated. But then he glanced around the platform at the new “guards” and the scared whispering students. He saw Wayne standing with Megan, but Wayne’s parents were conspicuously absent. He thought of Dean. He thought of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He remembered fifth year when he had parroted his mother’s beliefs for so long and so stupidly. He wouldn’t, couldn’t do that again.

But looking into his mother’s eyes, he couldn’t say no.

“Promise.” So he lied.

***

Kevin liked baking. It was difficult to do at Hogwarts though, because the Great Hall served all the food they could ever want, and there weren’t kitchens readily available to students. So for almost five years, Kevin only baked at home over the holidays.

Then he started dating Wayne. When he told Wayne that he missed baking, Wayne stood up, took Kevin’s hand, and dragged him down several corridors and flights of stairs, ignoring Kevin’s questions. They turned as if they were going to the Hufflepuff common room, but then walked right past the entrance. They stopped beside a large painting of a bowl of fruit. And Wayne led him into the Hogwarts kitchens.

Kevin was amazed at how well Wayne got along with the House Elves. Amazed and pleased. It meant he got to bake after all. That evening, he returned to the common room with his arms full of pastries to share. They were gone by morning.

***

Padma and Parvati forced their way to each other’s side as the remaining students started dividing into troops. Padma was thinking quickly. She had always been the twin who wanted to establish a separate identity, but as the battle plan was explained, she was cursing their differences. Parvati was a good up-close fighter. Padma excelled at long-range.

Neville and Luna were helping divide up the students based on skill sets and who worked well together. “Padma and I should go into the grounds,” Parvati was saying.

“No.” Padma looked sadly at her sister. “I’d do more good from one of the towers. I’ve got good aim, and you’re better at close-up fighting. I’ll go with Professor Flitwick.”

“But…”

“Parvati, we have to.” Padma turned to Neville. “I’m with Flitwick, she’s on the grounds.” Neville nodded and moved along to the next group.

“Padma, we can’t split up! What if something happens and I’m not there? Or if something happens to me and you’re not there?”

Padma ignored the fear that rose in her chest at the thought. “We can’t think of that right now. We have to go where we’ll do the most good. We knew this was a risk when we signed up.”

Parvati pulled her into a hug, which Padma returned.

“We’ll be okay.”

“And if we’re not?”

“We will be.”

***

Su found Seamus in one of her usual quiet places. He looked up as she came through the doorway, and for a moment they simply looked at each other.

“Hi,” Seamus said casually, straightening up and trying to look like he hadn’t just been doubled over in obvious pain. “What brings you here?”

Su was unimpressed. “You’re an idiot. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Su raised an eyebrow.

“Ok, so it’s possible I got into a bit of a disagreement with Crabbe.”

Su sighed. “Finnigan, we have an entire set of rules aimed mostly at you about not going places alone and avoiding confrontation. For exactly this reason.”

“Well he started it.”

“Really?”

“He did. He bumped me.”

“You sound like a child.”

“And after he bumped me, he said I’d bumped him and told me to apologize. I said no, so he bumped me again. Harder. With his fists, multiple times.”

“And you did nothing else to set him off?” Su said skeptically.

Seamus grinned. “It’s possible my ‘no’ was a bit more colorful than I made it sound.”

“You’re an idiot.”

***

“Oh my god.”

Lucy looked at Theodore questioningly. “What?”

“You. Your face. What the hell was that?”

“Oh shut up.”

“You just smiled. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before.”

“Of course you have.”

“No. I’ve seen you laugh, smirk, grin like a cat that just ate someone’s beloved pet. But I have never seen you smile like that.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Then you haven’t been paying attention. I guarantee I’ve smiled sometime in our seven years of knowing each other.”

Theodore shrugged, and they went back to what they were doing. Theodore was writing his Charms essay. Lucy was reading a letter.

“…Your smile makes your face look like a baby’s.”

“And there goes your right to ever see it again.”

***

Daphne sniffed once or twice, checked her reflection to make sure any trace of redness was gone from her eyes and nose, and left the bathroom.

It wouldn’t do to be late to Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall’s leniency was spread thin these days, mostly spent on her Gryffindors who showed up to class fifteen minutes late with broken ribs and noses. She doubted there was any left over for Slytherins who cried after torturing children.

Anyway, it wasn’t like she would admit to crying even if Professor McGonagall would let her be late. Admitting to weakness in the current climate was guaranteed to get you in trouble, and trouble was the last thing Daphne wanted.

***

Seamus knew it was probably dumb. That wasn’t about to stop him. He was a sixteen year old wizard with energy and ingenuity and unhappy friends.

He and Dean found an old phonograph and brought it up to the dorm. It probably wasn’t stealing. Then Seamus took the record out of his trunk (and wasn’t that a bitch to get because really who used records anymore?) and put it on.

“What the hell is this?” Ron asked as it started playing. Dean and Harry were laughing. Neville looked confused and a little afraid.

“This, lads, is Spice Girls.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Dean assured them, still laughing.

“Come on!” Seamus leapt up. “This isn’t music you sit around and listen to!” He pulled Harry and Ron to their feet.

Soon the dormitory was filled with the least graceful dancing that had ever been seen. But there was also a lot of laughter. Even Harry was smiling, and he had been looking miserable since…well…a long time.

Seamus considered it a success.


	18. Book Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a bookshop on a side street called Inkfinity Books. There was also a party.

In Birmingham on one of those side-streets that people can duck into when they’re tired of crowds, there was a bookshop. It was small, unremarkable at first. The display in the window was simple, the red brick front slightly grubby. The words Inkfinity Books had been carefully stenciled on the window. The door stuck slightly in warm weather, and the bell chimed in a welcoming kind of way when anyone entered or left. The inside was warm on cold days and cool on hot ones, always dry, and usually smelled of paper, leather, and mint.

The floors were wood, the walls were light green but mostly hidden behind bookcases. The shelves ran around the walls and in rows throughout the shop. There were nooks and crannies with chairs and lamps crammed into them for reading. The counter was right next to the door, and though it was usually unoccupied, someone always showed up when a customer needed help, and nobody ever got away with shoplifting. To the locals, the shop had a bit of a reputation for being weird. The rumor was that you could find any book you were looking for there, and if you couldn’t, it would be there the next day, ready for you.

The strangest thing about the store though, was the owner. He dressed well, better than one would expect from someone who owned a book shop. He clearly came from money, so he probably didn’t need to work there of all places. He didn’t seem particularly _happy_ about being there either, so nobody knew why he continued to run the place. Customers seemed to bother him most of the time, but he helped them anyway.

One day, a fairly busy day in the middle of June, a young woman wheeled into the shop. That was another thing about the shop. It was designed to be entirely wheelchair friendly. That wasn’t exactly strange, but it seemed notable. Especially when the woman rolled right up to the counter and yelled, “THEO! WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE IF YOU DON’T CLOSE UP IN TEN MINUTES!”

Theodore Nott hurried to the counter. “Lucy, I told you I’m not going. I have work. And I’d thank you not to scare away all of my customers.”

“Oh, please,” Lucy scoffed, “You don’t need my help doing that. Now, hurry up and close.”

“I’m not going.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Tracey and Mandy invited you. They want you there. They will be sad if you don’t go. Have you ever seen Mandy Brocklehurst look sad?”

“I’ve barely seen her look anything. I barely know her.”

“Well, now’s your chance to get to know her better,” Lucy said stubbornly.

Theodore sighed. “Look, I don’t like most of these people. None of them like me. Why should I go?” He looked at her expectantly.

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “So I can prove you wrong. Now close up shop or I will make you.”

“Fine.” Theodore rolled his eyes and went to chivy the customers out of his shop.

Ten minutes later, he was locking the door.

***

“Lucy! Theodore! I’m so glad you’re here!”

Theodore was dragged into a wave of light and color and noise as soon as the door opened. Mandy had him by the wrist and was pulling him relentlessly towards Tracey and the small knot of people around her. He recognized Quisilla Rivers, naturally, Su Li, oddly, and Seamus Finnigan, very oddly. Tracey looked up at their approach and smiled when she saw them.

“Hi,” Theo said awkwardly, wondering if they could sense how much he didn’t want to be there. Greetings and half-introductions went around, and Theodore took the moment to glance around the room and see who else was there. Many of them were people he had never talked to but knew by sight from seven years of school. He saw Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan dancing together in a way that made him want to scourgify his brain. Sally-Anne Perks was also dancing with a few Ravenclaws. A couple of Hufflepuffs were standing by the drinks table. Various people he couldn’t place at all were milling about in groups.

“Is Lisa here?” he asked Tracey. He liked Lisa. Sort of. She would be someone else he could actually talk to, and he knew she was good friends with Mandy.

Tracey pursed her lips slightly. “No. She was busy, apparently. She’s been busy a lot lately.” Tracey sounded almost worried, so Theodore decided to not ask any further. He wandered away towards the drinks figuring if he had to be here, he may as well get something out of it.

Drink in hand, he set off in search of a place to sit.

Several minutes and two drinks later, Quisilla came over to talk to him. They chatted pleasantly enough for a while, interrupted occasionally by Lucy or Morag MacDougal who was apparently friends with Quisilla, who knew?

“It’s weird seein’ so many of us in one place again. You know, the DA, defenders of Hogwarts, whatever we’re called nowadays. It’s like a hero reunion.”

Theodore looked up at Seamus’s words, despite the misgivings he had about their effect. Sure enough, several people were looking over at him, though they turned away quickly when they noticed him looking back.

“I mean…not all of us, I suppose,” Seamus said.

“Seamus,” someone admonished gently.

“What?” he said defensively, “It’s true. Anyway it’s not my fault if he didn’t fight with us.”

“And who exactly is at fault then?” Theo said quietly. He shouldn’t have said anything at all, really. But he’d had a couple of drinks, and he was already upset that he was there in the first place.

Seamus bristled. “Well, there’s a pretty obvious answer for that, isn’t there?”

“You’re blaming me for not risking my neck in a hopeless battle?” Theodore stood up.

“Wasn’t so hopeless after all, was it?” The room was going quiet around them. Theodore saw Tracey and Mandy walking over to them looking worried.

“I notice you’re not looking at anyone else in this room who didn’t fight. I could point out a few. But no, attack the man whose fuckin’ dad was out there in a mask, attack the man who never wanted anything to do with that rubbish and had to fight his entire upbringing even to stay neutral. I did what I could to help you all during the year, but when my father and his friends showed up to kill us all, yeah, I got the fuck out.” Theodore shook his head ruefully. “Guess that’s what I’ll do now too.” Without a backward glance at anyone, he strode to the door and left, ignoring the muttering, ignoring Lucy and Tracey following him.

“Theo!” It was Lucy. Theodore rolled his eyes and turned around.

“Are you satisfied? I went. They don’t like me.”

“That’s not true. Finnigan’s just…a dumbass. Get back in there. He’ll probably apologize. Su and Thomas are there, and they’re usually good at making him see sense.”

Theodore smiled, a cracked, sad-looking smile. “Never would have expected you to be the one who knew things like that. I’ll see you around, Lucy. But I’m not going back in there.” He turned on the spot and Disapparated, appearing a moment later back in his bookshop.

He sighed. “Good to be home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Theo....
> 
> I've got the next chapter or two pretty much lined up, but suggestions are still very much welcome!


	19. Recklessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seamus in seventh year has a lot of issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a bit of violence in this one, but honestly I think it's not much more than previous chapters. I mean, it's Carrows, so it's about what you'd expect from them.

Pain was a sensation Seamus was familiar with, as far as any seventeen year old wizard should be. But this pain was new. This pain was everywhere and consuming. Some part of his brain that wasn’t overrun by _ow ow oh god make it stop ow_ was aware that he was screaming and thrashing around.

Then the pain lifted. He took a moment to catch his breath and take in his position. He was lying on his back on the floor of the classroom. His arm hurt. There was blood in his mouth which he assumed was from biting his tongue. Amycus Carrow was standing a few feet away with his wand out. Seamus rolled over onto his hands and knees and spat out a glob of blood onto the stone floor. He stood up slowly, shakily.

Carrow was leering at him. “And that, class, is what happens when you talk back to your teachers.”

Seamus glared. “Well, you’re not much of a teacher if you didn’t answer my question. Did the Dark Arts do that to your face or were you just born like that?”

Pain again. Fuckin’ Cruciatus Curse. Seamus could see why it was illegal. This one didn’t last quite so long though. He opened his eyes and found that he was lying facedown. He braced himself to stand up again, but a hand suddenly grabbed the back of his head by the hair and smashed his face into the cold stone floor. Stars burst in front of his eyes and he felt his nose break. Blood splattered the ground as he was hauled to his feet and shoved unceremoniously towards a figure he vaguely recognized as Neville.

Carrow was talking. He heard something about the common room and punishment. Dazed and bloodied, he allowed Neville to support him out of the classroom. Once the door had closed behind them, Seamus looked up at Neville (up at Neville? When had that happened?) and grinned. Neville frowned back.

“C’mon, Neville. I think that was a rousing success,” he said thickly.

“Seamus, you just got tortured and beaten up. Stop…smiling.”

Seamus shook his head, regretting the movement immediately. “Argh. Well, I stood up to them. That’s something to celebrate.”

Neville’s frown deepened. “You’re not going to do that again,” he said sternly, “We’re only two days in and you’ve already had an Unforgivable used on you!”

Seamus shrugged. “It’s worth it if people see they’re wrong.”

They walked in silence for a little while, Seamus still supported somewhat by Neville.

“Hey, Neville, aren’t we going to the Hospital Wing?” Seamus asked.

Neville shook his head. “Carrow’s banned you. I’m to take you up to the common room. It’s a punishment or something.”

Seamus groaned.

“You’re the one who lost your temper.”

“He’s the one who’s a fuckin’…ugh I can’t even think of a word. I may possibly be a little concussed.”

“You hit your head when you fell over the first time. And the second time. And then he smashed your head into the floor. I wouldn’t be surprised. We’ll see if anyone knows any healing spells for that kind of thing.”

Seamus half-nodded wearily. “That’d be grand.”

***

When they reached the common room, they found that the sixth years had a free period. Ginny was sitting in an armchair by the fire, and she looked over when they walked in. She leapt to her feet and hurried up to them.

“What the hell happened?”

“Carrow doesn’t appreciate me sense of humor,” Seamus muttered.

“This idiot decided that it would be a good idea to ask Carrow if his face was a product of Dark Arts,” Neville explained, shooing some fifth years off of a sofa so they could sit Seamus down on it.

Ginny looked at him disapprovingly. “Finnigan, what did we just agree on about stirring up trouble?”

“That it was an excellent idea,” Seamus mumbled tiredly.

“Exactly, but I think we said _wait until we know the situation_.”

“Well, now we know. They’ll use the Cruciatus Curse on students.”

Ginny blinked. “They _what_? You…he used the Cruciatus Curse!?”

Seamus nodded.

“Ginny, you wouldn’t happen to know how to treat a concussion, would you?” Neville asked, looking at Seamus with concern.

“No. I’ll go ask some of the others.” She hurried off.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to sleep, Seamus,” Neville said as Seamus’s eyes slid shut.

“Not sleepin’,” Seamus muttered drowsily. His head was pounding, and his eyelids felt heavy. The sofa was so warm and soft.

“Hey, talk to me about what the hell you were thinking back there, okay?”

Seamus smiled. “I told you. If people stand up to them, everyone will know it can be done.”

“Based on your example, I think they’ll just see how stupid it is,” Neville retorted.

“Nah, mate. I think you underestimate them. People will fight for things if someone leads them. Probably shouldn’t be me though.”

“Oh yeah? Why not you?”

“I’d just get them to do stupid shit like this. You’d get them to do something more productive.”

***

“This self-sacrificing hero complex thing you all have has got to stop,” Anthony said as he dabbed more ointment on Neville’s face.

“It’s not a self-sacrificing hero complex,” Seamus protested, “It’s standing up to them and giving people hope.”

Anthony frowned. “Well, it’s making my job as official Healer for the DA a lot more difficult.”

“Speaking of which…” Neville began, but Anthony cut him off.

“No talking while I’m healing your face.” Seamus snickered. “And you can stop laughing, Finnigan; you’re the worst patient I’ve ever had.”

Seamus looked very offended. Neville looked pleased.

***

Seamus woke up slowly. When he finally found the energy to open his eyes, he was looking up at the ceiling of his dormitory.

“Seamus!” Neville suddenly appeared in his line of vision. “You’re awake!”

Seamus groaned. “But at what cost,” he muttered.

“What hurts?” Neville asked, concern all over his face.

“What doesn’t?” Seamus replied, wincing as he attempted to sit up.

“Well, you did get Crucio-ed, beaten, and chained up overnight,” Neville said reasonably.

“I remember, thanks. Did Anthony heal me up? ‘Cause if so, he did a pretty shoddy job of it. I think I have some broken ribs.”

“He’s in detention himself at the moment. Not quite as bad as your detention just was but still, he’s not going to be healing you for a while. We did the best we could with what we had.”

“Well, thanks for trying.”

“No problem,” Neville said in a voice that told Seamus clearly that despite Neville’s initial relief at Seamus being awake, there was a problem.

“What?”

“When are you going to stop doing stupid things like this?” Neville burst out.

Seamus looked up at him quizzically. “I thought we were all for standing up to them.”

Neville glared. “Standing up to them is different from recklessly throwing yourself into detention every chance you get.”

Seamus frowned. “I don’t-”

“You do.”

“Fine. I do. So what?” Seamus said petulantly.

“So stop.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Seamus turned away as best he could with his limited mobility.

“Seamus, why are you doing this?” Neville asked again, anger fading and concern coming back. Seamus stayed silent. “No, really,” Neville urged him, “I have no idea why you’re doing it, and it’s scaring me. It’s scaring all of us. Lavender and Parvati were in here earlier. They’re worried about you. This is self-destructive behavior, and it’s not helping anyone. Is it about Dean? I know you’re worried, but this isn’t helping.” Seamus laughed humorlessly and turned back to face Neville.

“It’s not about Dean. Not entirely anyway.”

“Then what?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Neville looked unimpressed. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

Seamus sighed. “It’s...I’ve been thinking about it, and I think it’s about me dad.”

Neville blinked. “Your dad? What about him? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine as far as I know,” Seamus said, “It’s not like that. It’s…he’s a Muggle, you know? Mam didn’t tell him she was a witch until after they were married. I told you all that. Thing is, they almost got divorced then. He couldn’t handle it.” He paused, watching Neville’s expression change. “They stayed together in the end. He loved her too much to leave. But he was never really comfortable with magic. She stopped using it around the house when he was there.” 

Seamus shifted so he was sitting a bit more upright, wincing at the strain on his ribs and muscles and cuts and bruises and, well, everything.

“Then I was born,” he continued, “And for a while they were ridiculously happy. Then I started doing accidental magic. Dad didn’t like that, but he understood he couldn’t do anything to stop it. So he started avoiding me. He loves me, don’t get me wrong. I think it was hard for him, wanting to spend time with his son and needing to avoid magic. Anyway, the point is he’s a little more okay with it now, but there’s generally no magic in the house, and he’s never dropped me off on the Hogwarts Express. He didn’t go to the Quidditch World Cup with us. He’s never been to Diagon Alley. I can tell him Gryffindor won the House Cup and it doesn’t mean anything to him. I got an E in Transfiguration, and you know how terrible I am at that. When my OWL results came, he was just...blank.”

“But…” Neville looked sad and confused.

“He’d almost agreed to drop me off this year,” Seamus said morosely, “But with the war, it just couldn’t happen. He was getting so close, and now he’s shut out.”

Understanding dawned on Neville’s face. “So throwing yourself into this…”

Seamus nodded. “Maybe it’s not helping anyone, but the fuckers ruined any chance I had of getting my dad involved in this part of my life. I can’t just sit there and take it.”

“Seamus,” Neville said seriously, “Getting angry is reasonable. But you’re not the only one who’s lost things to them. And you’re not going to get your dad to like magic by getting yourself beat up.”

“I know. I never said it was rational. It’s just…that’s why. I think. At least it’s a part of it. Obviously I want Dean back too, and I can’t stand what they’ve done to Hogwarts.”

“We’ll fight back, Seamus. Harry will come back, and then we’ll drive them out. But until then, we have to stay in one piece.”

***

Seamus was moody again, and Neville wasn’t sure what the problem was. Times like this, he wished more than ever that Dean was still there. Apart from everything else, Dean knew Seamus better than anyone and would be able to help.

Dean wasn’t there, though. That was part of the whole problem to begin with. So Neville would just have to confront Seamus himself. He decided to do it in the evening when they were alone in the dormitory.

“Hey, Seamus?” he asked as Seamus rummaged through his trunk. His back was to Neville and for a second, Neville thought Seamus hadn’t heard him.

“What?”

“Something’s been bothering you lately, hasn’t it?”

“There are about a million things bothering all of us lately, Neville,” Seamus replied tartly.

“But there’s something more recently.” Seamus didn’t respond. “Is it the news about Dean?” Neville tried. “I know he’s your best friend, and you’re worried, but he can look after himself.”

Seamus remained silent for so long that Neville just about gave up. Then he saw Seamus’s shoulders shaking. He heard a sniff. Neville took a step forward.

“You are all so fuckin’ blind,” Seamus said contemptuously. Neville stopped about three feet away. “”He’s your best friend.” He’s not just my best friend, Neville. He’s my boyfriend. We were dating since about a month after he and Ginny split up. And none of you even noticed.”

Neville stared, trying to remember any sign of a romantic relationship between his dorm mates. “But…why didn’t you say anything?”

Seamus shrugged. “Didn’t seem relevant.” He sniffed again and took a long, shuddering breath. “But yeah, you got me. That’s why I’m upset. Congratulations.” He yanked the curtains closed around his bed, and Neville knew he wouldn’t be getting any more out of him tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...there ya go!
> 
> I know everyone says this, but I really do appreciate comments, and I honestly will update more if people comment. I mean, I'll update anyway of course. But any feedback is always welcome :)


	20. Mr. and Mrs. Macmillan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Married life and raising a family

Four Months After the Battle of Hogwarts…

 

“Ernie?” Neville asked tentatively. “Are you ready?”

Ernie fiddled nervously with the collar of his dress robes. “I think so. Do I look ready? Do I have everything?”

“You look fine. You look excellent. Are you mentally ready?”

Ernie took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Okay. It’s time.”

 

“Hannah, am I okay? Do I look okay? Should I have done something different with my hair?”

“Susan,” Hannah said calmly, “You look beautiful. You are wonderful. You are marrying the man you love, and everything is going to be fine.”

Susan nodded distractedly. Then she frowned.

“What? What’s wrong?” Hannah asked.

“Nothing. Not really. I just…I kind of wish I could wear the ring on the right finger, you know?”

Hannah’s face fell. “Oh. I didn’t…sorry.”

“It’s okay! I decided it was better to use my real right finger than a fake left one,” Susan said brightly, patting her own left shoulder fondly. “I’m getting married. Nothing can ruin my good mood today, least of all a little missing limb. I’m getting married!”

Hannah smiled. “That’s the spirit! I have to go get ready to process in. Are you all set?”

Susan nodded. “I’m ready.”

 

Neville grinned at him as he walked up the aisle. Ernie returned the grin nervously and turned his gaze on Hannah next. She stood on the bride’s side, already tearing up at the sight of him. Megan and Sally-Anne stood a little farther off in matching dark blue dresses. He reached the front of the chapel and turned as the music swelled again.

Ernie beamed even more widely as Susan and her father walked down the aisle. Susan looked positively radiant. She had let her hair down for once, and it hung in soft coppery waves to her waist. She smiled as she approached Ernie, and every thought of fear and nervousness flew away at once.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones in holy matrimony…”

 

Ernie took Susan’s hand in both of his. “Susan, I’ve known you for more than seven years now. We’ve been through a lot, both of us, but we went through it together. You kept me from despair, put me on the right path, supported me through thick and thin. You’ve been there for me during the worst parts of my life. And the thought of you not being there for anything to come is infinitely more terrifying than anything I’ve been through in the past.

People can say we’re too young to make this kind of commitment, but they’re wrong. We grew up fast, and we grew up together. I can’t imagine growing old without you, and I don’t want to. I love you. I love your smile and your laugh. I love when you talk, and I love when you shut me up because I’ve been talking for too long. You’re the only person I could ever spend the rest of my life with.”

He looked back at Neville and took the ring. He slid it onto Susan’s finger with ease.

 

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

***

“Ernie, I’m pregnant.”

Ernie stood there, stunned and staring. “You’re…”

“Pregnant. With child. Bun in the oven. In a family way.” Susan was smiling widely, and she had never looked so beautiful unless it had been the day they were married.

Ernie laughed elatedly. “You’re pregnant!” He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into the air. “My wife is pregnant!”

Susan laughed along with him as he set her back down. “I’m going to have a baby!”

Their small kitchen filled with joy and laughter as the morning went on. Hannah arrived twenty minutes after Susan told Ernie, and Neville came after another hour. 

Later that night when they were alone again, Susan climbed under the covers and turned to face Ernie.

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” she whispered.

“And you’re going to be the best mother in the entire history of mothers.”

***

“How long before Ernie gets kicked out for worrying too much, do you think?” Neville asked Hannah.

“He might manage to hold out just so he can stay,” Hannah said, but she sounded doubtful. Sure enough, Ernie joined them twenty minutes later, looking anxious and fidgety.

“They’re doing fine,” was all he managed to say.

It seemed like hours later, but nobody could keep good track of time, when one of the Healers came out to fetch Ernie. Without a backward glance at Hannah or Neville, he rushed into the delivery room.

“Susan!”

Susan looked up as he entered, face glowing. “Ernie, meet Amelia Grace Macmillan. Amelia, look! It’s your daddy!”

Ernie reached out, awestruck, and took the baby from Susan. “A girl,” he breathed, holding his daughter as if she might break or melt away any moment. “Hello, Amelia.” She blinked up at him with Susan’s beautiful brown eyes. “She’s beautiful.”

Susan beamed as Ernie leaned over to kiss her forehead. “We’re parents!”

“Yes we are.”

***

“Ernie, she’s crying again.”

“Mmph.”

“It’s your turn, you promised.”

“Mmnmp.”

Susan poked him. “Get up.”

“Mfine.”

“Go.”

***

Susan came downstairs after tucking in Amelia and found Ernie in the living room. She paused in the doorway and watched him reading. He needed a haircut. More than once over the past few days she had noticed him brushing a stray curl up from his forehead, only for it to fall back moments later. But other than that, he looked good. The dark circles under his eyes from sleepless nights with Amelia had vanished months ago after the teething had stopped. The scarring on his back and neck was just visible between his hair and his shirt collar, but it had been weeks since she had seen him wince at it. He looked up.

“Are you going to stand there and stare at me all night?”

Susan laughed a little. “No.”

“Well you could always come sit,” Ernie said, putting his book aside. Susan moved away from the doorway and crossed the room to sit in his lap.

“And you could always go to sleep. Sleep is good.”

“Sleep is good,” Ernie agreed.

“Mmm.”

“Don’t fall asleep here, Su. You’ll be all stiff and sore in the morning.”

“Carry us upstairs then.”

“I – what?”

Susan opened her eyes and grinned up at him. “Us,” she said happily.

“Us as in?” His eyes flicked down to her abdomen. She nodded.

“Us.”

***

“Ernie! Ernie, can you put the twins to bed? I promised Amelia I’d stay up and read to her tonight.”

“Of course, love.”

“Oh! And I’m going to be doing a photo-shoot tomorrow with Parvati. She’s doing a new line of maternity robes and, well, here I am.”

“Who’s staying with the kids?”

“Neville said he could do it, but I told him to bring someone along to help. I think the only person he could find was Seamus though.” Susan bit her lip thoughtfully. “Maybe I should just take them with me? Parvati wouldn’t mind a four-year-old girl and two three-year-old boys running around her studio too much, would she?”

Ernie laughed a little nervously. “Maybe. Or maybe we could get your parents?”

“They’re on holiday at the moment. Well, I’m sure Neville and Seamus can manage between the two of them. It’s not even overnight.”

Ernie nodded. “They can manage.”

“…I’m going to call Padma. She usually works from home anyway.”

***

“Susan, how about you take Jenna and Babs to Fortescue’s and Amelia and the boys and I will meet you there when we’re done at Gringott’s? The boys love the carts, but we can’t take everyone and Jenna still gets sick.”

“But Dad!” Christopher protested, “I want ice cream too!”

“I wanna ride the cart!” Barbara said loudly.

“You can have ice cream when you get back,” Susan said placatingly to Christopher, “ And you can go in the cart when you’re older, Babsie. That sounds lovely, dear,” she added to Ernie. “And when we’re all finished at Fortescue’s we’ll go Malkin’s, Flourish and Blotts, Apothecary, Pottage’s, Ollivander’s?”

“Why’s my wand last?” Amelia whined.

“Because we always save the best for last,” Susan said.

“Okay, let’s go,” Ernie said, giving Susan a quick kiss on the cheek. “Boys, stick together and stick to me. Same to you, Amelia.”

“Come on, girls. Ice cream awaits!”

***

Amelia waved out the window. Her parents weren’t crying, but they looked close to it. Her brothers and Jenna were waving, and Babs had started crying, though that may have had less to do with Amelia leaving and more to do with the general excitement of the day. Hannah was waving too and looked as if she would break down any minute, but that might have had more to do with Neville – Professor Longbottom – leaving. The train went around a corner, and she pulled her hand back into the compartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't they adorable? Also if you noticed the thing, yes it is deliberate. Yes, you are very sad. Yes, you should let me know because I want to know if anyone notices the thing.


	21. Mudblood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four Muggle borns, four experiences

Food was pushed between the bars of his cell by a scabby, rotted hand. He pressed his back against the opposite wall. _Stay away. Make it go away. Don’t care about food. Make it leave._

The hand withdrew, and with a great effort, he got up, got the food, and convinced himself to eat it. It hardly seemed worth it. There was a flash of memory, gone as soon as it came, of sugar and sweet smells and crisp bread. Nothing tasted good anymore. And it wouldn’t really matter if he just starved, would it? _No_ , a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered, _you have to stay alive. Eat._ The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He wanted to hear it again. He had to know. But his head was silent. He sniffed. There was no point in hiding tears here. Where was here? Right. Azkaban. Prison. He was in prison. Why was he in prison? _Mudblood_. He remembered. They tore him away from his dad’s arms. There were tears. His dad had begged and pleaded, but he stayed back. Didn’t want to die.

Didn’t matter. Didn’t matter. Probably dead now anyway. Why would they let him live? He pushed away the remains of his food. (Dinner? Breakfast? Who could tell?) Dad was dead. Dad was dead like Mum. Everyone died eventually, wouldn’t matter if he did too. Stay alive. The voice again. But maybe the voice was wrong. The voice could be wrong. Voices in your head were usually wrong, weren’t they? He didn’t know.

Mum died when he was ten. Ten years old and no more Mum. She never even knew he was a wizard. She held his hand, called him by that name. That nickname she’d had for him. Not Kevin (who was Kevin?) but some other name. He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember much anymore. He screamed in frustration and buried his head in his arms. He couldn’t remember anything anymore. Just death and failure and cold and _mudblood_ and _freak_. He screamed again. It didn’t help. Nothing helped.

***

The little house in the Zutphen in the Netherlands had only one occupant. The neighbors had seen him come and go occasionally with grocery bags and such things, but though he nodded and smiled at them when they passed in the street, none of them had ever spoken to him. He looked too young to be living on his own, most said. There was a great deal of speculation in the neighborhood for about a week. Then old Rika Achterop decided to take matters into her own hands and bring him a pie.

She rang the doorbell and was just about to give up and eat the pie herself when the door opened.

“Er, hi. Sorry about the wait.”

So he was English.

“Hello. I brought you pie. A welcome present.” She smiled.

“Oh. Thank you, Ms…”

“Call me Rika. What is your name?”

“Justin,” he said, “Please, come in.”

“Thank you.”

Rika managed to learn enough to keep her friends gossiping happily, and she got to eat some of her pie. Justin was indeed from England, and he was from a fairly wealthy family. He was polite, charming, and very interested in whatever Rika said. He was on holiday apparently, though she got the sense he wasn’t very happy about it. She asked why, but he simply said that he needed a break. She supposed that was something rich people could do, though why he would want to take a break here of all places she didn’t know. Most young people on holiday in the Netherlands went to Amsterdam.

He shook his head when she asked if he had visited the city. “No, I’m afraid not. It would be terribly exciting, but I just can’t manage it at the moment.”

“That’s too bad. I’m sure you would enjoy it.”

“Yes. Well, perhaps someday.”

***

Dean had met Bill Weasley only once before during the Triwizard Tournament. Fleur he had never spoken to, but of course he knew who she was. He was incredibly grateful to them for taking him in.

There was something comforting about them, beyond the comforts of the cottage and the safety they provided. They were newlyweds, he learned, and despite the war and the unexpected guests, they were making their married life work. It was a good feeling just to see two people in love after spending so much time alone or with only Ted, Dirk, and the goblins. The thought of Ted still made his stomach churn with grief and guilt. He and Dirk had died trying to protect Dean, and Dean had just ended up captured anyway.

Luna was great though. He spent most of his time at Shell Cottage with her while Harry, Ron, and Hermione did whatever it was they were doing. She told him all about the creatures she and her father went looking for on holidays, and though most of them sounded ridiculous, Dean listened anyway. It was nice to hear about something other than war and death and misery.

***

Colin and Dennis held their breaths as their paperwork was reviewed by the committee. They had checked, double-checked, and triple-checked to make sure everything was in order, but if they decided that grandparents weren’t close enough relations….

Finally Umbridge turned back to them, a look of disappointed fury on her face. “Your activities at Hogwarts will be carefully monitored, but as you have provided the required evidence, you are free to go.”

Doing his best to keep his expression even, Colin nodded to the committee, took Dennis by the hand, and walked quickly out of the courtroom. Once they were safely past the dementors and in a deserted corridor, they risked a relieved sigh and a hug.

“Let’s go home. Mum and Dad should be in France by now.”

“What if they’re not?” Dennis asked quietly.

Colin hesitated. “Well…we’ll just have to go home and…see what’s happening.”

He called the lift and they waited in silence for it to arrive.

***

“Dad! Dad, look! I made them blue!” Nine year old Kevin Entwhistle shoved a handful of slightly bedraggled _very_ blue buttercups at his father.

His dad laughed. “You certainly did! How’d you get them that blue, son?”

“I just _did_ ,” Kevin said, rolling his eyes as if his dad were being silly. “Can I give them to Mum? Mum said she likes blue the best.”

“Of course you can. Here, let’s put them in a vase first, alright?”

“Alright!” Kevin chattered happily as he and his dad put the flowers in a small vase and went upstairs to give them to his mother. She was lying down, as was usual these days.

“Mum, look what I got for you!” Kevin said loudly, and he held the flowers out for her to see.

“Oh, they’re lovely, sweetie! Wherever did you find blue buttercups?”

“I found yellow ones, but you like blue, so I made them blue,” Kevin said proudly.

His mother looked bemused, but she and her husband had long since learned not to question Kevin when he said things like that. Odd things seemed to follow him wherever he went, so blue flowers weren’t worth the effort.

“Come sit with me for a while, draíochta.”

Kevin clambered onto the bed next to her, and they sat and talked about nothing for hours.

***

Justin found it difficult to keep from fidgeting as he told his parents the situation. His life was in danger if he stayed, and their lives would be too. He had to go into hiding, and they couldn’t come.

“But Justin, we can’t possibly just send you off into the wild. You are our son, and it is our job to take care of you,” his father said.

“Dad, this has to be done.”

“I realize that, but let’s do it properly.”

So it was arranged that Justin would go to the Netherlands, and the rest of the family would go on a long holiday to America, making it seem as though Justin had gone with them.

The goodbyes were tearful for all and confusing for some. Nobody but Justin and his parents knew exactly what was going on. His mother said goodbye last. She was successfully holding back her tears, unlike most of the rest of the family.

“Now, you be good, Justin. Stay out of trouble. Write when you can, alright?”

“I will, Mum.”

***

Dean Thomas was ten years old, but if asked, he wouldn’t say so. He would say that he was turning eleven in two days because ten sounded so immature. And Dean Thomas was not immature.

A knock on the door of their little house in London was not uncommon, but for Dean and his little sisters, it was still occasion for excitement. Their mother opened the door, brushing her hair out of her face and trying to do ten things at once as usual. She was brought up short, however, when she saw the woman in the doorway. Dean, standing behind her, couldn’t help staring.

She was a tall woman and fairly old. She wore a dark green suit and square glasses. Everything about her radiated severity and cleverness. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she was holding a leather briefcase.

“Oh,” Mrs. Thomas said, “Hello. How can I help you?”

“My name is Professor McGonagall. I’m here to talk to you and your son about his education.”

***

Colin felt simultaneously as if he could run for miles or fall asleep instantly. It had been a long, exhausting day, but he was still so excited. He gaped at everything and listened as hard as he could to the Prefect who was leading them up to Gryffindor Tower. When they arrived, however, the common room was full of older students talking loudly about Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, who had apparently flown a car to school. Colin and the other first years stopped to listen and wait for the heroes’ return, despite the Prefect’s protests that they had all had a long day and should get some sleep.

Colin had to stand on top of a chair to see the portrait hole, but it opened finally to reveal two boys and a girl a little behind them. Colin could tell which one was Harry Potter by the descriptions he had heard from older students at the feast. He was smaller than Colin had pictured, but Colin thought he still looked huge somehow. Before Colin could get any closer, the boys had gone up to bed. So he decided he would have to meet this hero the next day, the one who had defeated the dark wizard when he was a baby and made it possible for Colin to come to Hogwarts. Yes, Colin definitely had to meet him.

***

Kevin was practicing for Transfiguration in the common room. Turning a match into a needle seemed like it should be a simple procedure with magic, but it was frustratingly difficult. He tried again, but the match remained resolutely a match. A Ravenclaw second year, Pete Morse, stopped to watch him.

“You want to poke more than wave,” he advised, taking out his own wand to demonstrate.

“Oh, thank you,” Kevin said, taking out another match to keep trying.

“No problem. It’s a difficult subtlety to learn for Muggle borns.” He walked away.

Kevin stared after him, suddenly wishing he had practiced in his dormitory.

***

Wayne and Justin were the only ones in the dormitory. Ernie was still in the shower, and Zacharias and Julian had gone to breakfast. It was their first morning at Hogwarts, and it was a little bit awkward.

“Er, Justin, you should probably know…I mean maybe you do, I don’t know if you know. The point is that being a Muggle born can be difficult. My mum’s one and she got bullied at Hogwarts for it. It’s stupid of course, but there are a lot of wizards who think they’re better because they’re “pureblood.” Ridiculous, but not all that uncommon.”

“Oh,” Justin said, frowning slightly. He hadn’t thought of that.

“I’m sure you’ll be alright. It’s much better now than it used to be.”

***

“I’m half and half,” Seamus said, “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mam didn’t tell him she was a witch ‘til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.”

Everyone laughed, and then Ron asked Neville about his parents, which led to more amusing and slightly scary stories about Neville’s childhood. They looked at Dean expectantly when Neville had finished. Harry had turned to listen to the conversation on his other side, but the rest of the new Gryffindor boys were still engaged.

Dean swallowed his mouthful of potatoes. “Well, my mum’s a Muggle, and so’s my step-dad. No idea about my biological dad. He ran off when I was a baby. Could be he was a wizard.”

The topic changed soon after that, but Seamus leaned over to talk to Dean. “Word to the wise, there’s some out there who think being Muggle born is bad. They’re wrong of course, but it pays to know.”

Dean’s heart sank. “Like racists?”

Seamus nodded bitterly. “Kind of like racists.”

***

“Enemies of the heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”

“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood.”

The word had been bothering Colin for hours. It was clearly something offensive, but he didn’t know what it meant. He hadn’t heard it anywhere except from that blond Slytherin. He would have to ask. He and Thomas were the only ones in the dorm, so it seemed like a good enough time.

“Thomas, what’s a Mudblood?” he asked.

Thomas’s eyes widened. “Where did you hear that?”

“That Malfoy boy in Slytherin said it when Mrs. Norris was petrified. “You’ll be next, Mudbloods.””

Thomas hadn’t been there at the time, and his mouth fell open in horror. “Colin, ‘Mudblood’ is a really foul word for Muggle born.”

It took a moment for the meaning of this to sink in. “You mean I could be in danger? I’m one of those “enemies of the heir”?”

Thomas nodded.

“Oh.” Colin suddenly felt very, very small.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be a follow-up chapter. The reason I didn't include Hermione is the same reason I haven't included her in other things. We've seen most of her story.  
> Please comment with anything or anyone you'd like to see more of or have explained or if you just liked this! Or if you didn't, but at least explain why please.


	22. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the one-word prompt: silence

When Tracey arrived at the house that was now hers two days after the battle, it was silent. She wasn’t sure what else she had expected. Maybe she had thought there would be fans going or floorboards squeaking. Perhaps she had expected to hear wind whistling or crickets or leaves brushing the windows. 

It was a warm summer night, and she felt like there should have been something. But there was nothing, not even the hum of electricity. Not even the wind stirring the leaves of the trees outside. The street was deserted, or perhaps all of her neighbors were inside their homes, too scared to come out after all the strange things that had been happening.

Tracey went to turn the lights on, but nothing happened. They must have turned off the power when they realized no one was living in the house. She would have to deal with that. The water was probably off too. Tracey lit her wand and entered. The entryway was mostly empty except for the coat rack and a small pile of shoes. There was a pile of mail on the floor in front of the door. It had been pushed aside when Tracey opened it. She moved the beam of light over a few of the envelopes. Most seemed to be bills of some kind. There were a couple of catalogues. She moved on to the kitchen.

The kitchen was in a similar state of silent darkness. She would probably have to empty the fridge at some point. There wasn’t much to see. Cozy memories of doing homework at the little round table while her mother cooked and gossiped about work, of dinners with her grandparents who wanted to hear all about school and how did magic work exactly could it fix Grandma’s back, of sleepy breakfasts; they whirled through her numb brain, and when she opened her eyes again, it was still empty and silent.

Tracey entered the living room slowly. Here, even more than the kitchen, there were memories. She paused by the piano and gently pressed one of the keys. The note (a D, if she remembered her mother’s instruction correctly) died far too quickly for her liking. So she made her way upstairs to her bedroom.

Here nothing seemed to have changed. Her mother may have been in to tidy while she was away, but the bedspread, the computer, the pile of books and comics, even the clothes in the closet were all hers. Nothing seemed to be missing.

She hesitated outside the door to her mother’s bedroom. Then she sighed and pushed it open slowly. The bed was unmade. There were dirty clothes in the laundry hamper. The top drawer of the wardrobe was slightly open. Tracey turned around and walked out of the house. She didn’t look back before apparating back to Hogsmeade. She would return the next day with Mandy at her side and they would go through the house and start cleaning and making it livable again.

***

Morag waited to join the wounded until those with life-threatening injuries were taken care of. Then she felt Mandy tug on her arm and saw her calling Madam Pomfrey over.

“I can’t hear anything,” she felt herself say. Madam Pomfrey nodded and motioned for her to sit down.

There had been an explosion, a big one. Morag was lucky to be alive, but she had been close enough to damage her ears.

After almost an hour of spells, potions, ringing ears, and Mandy hovering, Morag could hear some sounds. She could tell when someone was talking, but not what they were saying. Her ears had stopped ringing for the most part. Then Madam Pomfrey wrote a note for her.

_As soon as they are made, someone will bring hearing aids for you. In the meantime, stay put. Shouldn’t be long._

Morag nodded once, and Madam Pomfrey moved away to help someone else and get someone started on her hearing aids. Magical methods of healing were more effective than Muggle ones, she knew. But even magic had its limits, and ears were tricky.

It was difficult to sit and wait without being able to listen to the others around her. When the battle had ended, she had rushed around, trying to find as many of her friends as possible. She had seen Padma, Terry, Michael, and Mandy before Mandy had insisted that she get help for her hearing. Sitting there and waiting, she saw Dean and Seamus walk past. They smiled slightly when they saw her, and she returned the smile as well as she could. Her line of sight was conveniently cut off from the dead and the rest of the wounded, and she had a feeling Mandy had done it on purpose. She was cleverer than people gave her credit for. Still, she wished she hadn’t.

“Mandy, who’s alive?” she asked. Mandy bit her lip and said something Morag couldn’t quite understand. “I can’t…I need to go see.”

Mandy put a hand firmly on her shoulder. The message was obvious. _Madam Pomfrey said stay here._

“But-”

Madam Pomfrey suddenly reappeared and handed Morag two enchanted hearing aids. With a little help from the matron, Morag put them in. Suddenly she could hear (mostly) clearly again.

“Morag, are they working?” Mandy asked.

“Yes. Come on.” Morag got up and before Madam Pomfrey could say anything, she darted away to find whomever she could.

***

Goyle (his parents were the only ones who called him Gregory, but he thought of himself as Greg) was not known for his way with words. He didn’t like to talk much. Talking meant drawing attention to himself, and Greg preferred to remain unnoticed when possible. He knew he was stupid and unpleasant, and he didn’t see why he should make it any more obvious than it already was.

There wasn’t much he could contribute to conversations, but he listened anyway and tried his best to keep up.

***

Dean had been keeping quiet a lot lately for the sake of his friendship with Seamus. It wasn’t as if Seamus didn’t know Dean believed Harry, but they both avoided talking much about it.

Dean understood Seamus’s point of view, at least to some extent. Seamus was deeply devoted to his mother, and for Harry to insult her was unacceptable. But on the other hand, Seamus was acting like an idiot. Really, he should know better than to trust politicians over friends. But Dean was confident he would come around eventually.

The main problem Dean faced now was whether or not to tell Seamus about the DA. Seamus would surely notice if Dean started disappearing once a week, and Dean didn’t want to lie to him. On the other hand, he knew Seamus wouldn’t like it. He wouldn’t tell Umbridge or anything, but he wouldn’t like it. In the end, Dean came up with the excuse that he was spending some time with Harry and Ron occasionally because whether or not Seamus liked it, they were still Dean’s friends. Seamus would just have to deal with it. Seamus did, though not without a lot of grumbling and glaring.

Dean told himself that it was the truth and that once Seamus realized that Harry was right, he would join them. Besides, it wasn’t like Seamus didn’t have other friends. Dean got the impression that when he was in DA meetings, Seamus usually went and found Wayne or Megan or most likely both. He figured it was the best he could hope for under the circumstances.

***

People underrated silence, Su thought. Everyone seemed to need noise all the time. People liked quiet when they were studying or sleeping, she supposed. But nobody seemed to really appreciate it, not when they were awake. That feeling when the only sounds you might hear were distant and soft, when nothing demanded your attention so you could give it to whatever you wanted. Su loved those moments. Not all the time of course, that would just be depressing. But sometimes at least. Sometimes when the world was pressing in and nothing made sense, Su retreated to silence.

She had found several havens at Hogwarts over the years. For instance, on warm days she could go to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, away from the lake and Hagrid’s hut, a good distance from the greenhouses, within sight of the Whomping Willow. She would sit there with her back against a tree and read or watch the birds and the trees or even do homework. Or do nothing. It was peaceful. In Winter, she would go to one of the secret rooms in a deserted part of the castle. She was more likely to be disturbed there than she was outside, but that couldn’t be helped.

Su liked her silence. And she also liked sharing it. Lisa would join her sometimes, more often when they got older. Morag would join as well, particularly after the war when her hearing was damaged. The person who surprised her most when he joined was Seamus. She had always thought he was too loud and exuberant and fiery to appreciate quiet moments like she did, but the first time he joined her, she was surprised by how happy he seemed to be to find it. He didn’t say a word when he stumbled across her. He simply smiled and sat down next to her, remaining there for close to half an hour in silence. Then they heard a bell ring in some distant part of the castle, and he got up and left. He returned several times that year, and when she asked why, he said “Same reason as you, I guess,” and left it at that. She understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, and there's more to come soon! I have the next eleven chapters planned and the next two written, but after that I will probably need suggestions, prompts, requests, etc. As always, let me know what you liked or didn't like!
> 
> And btw I have a tumblr account if you're interested. My url is q-loves-you. That's all for now, folks!


	23. Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a person who serves in an army; a person engaged in military service.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so I had this idea a while ago based on the song This is War by 30 Seconds to Mars. You know, the one song that pretty much every fandom has like twelve videos with and people choose characters to cast in the various roles mentioned? Well, I'm basically doing that, but in fic form for the next several chapters. Enjoy?

Lisa Turpin became one of the DA’s official instructors after the first meeting when she successfully disarmed Zacharias Smith, Ernie Macmillan, Terry Boot, Ginny, and Neville (separately) without using her wand. Apparently she had been learning Muggle defense techniques since she was four, and the only reason she hadn’t been top of the class in Defense Against the Dark Arts was because she had disagreed on fighting techniques, not been very interested in dark creatures, and failed to throw off the Imperius Curse for a long time.

Neville had had occasion lately to wonder why Lisa was in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. She was an incredible fighter and undoubtedly brave, frequently volunteering for more dangerous missions. She was really everything he would expect from a Gryffindor. He didn’t ask, but he did wonder. And upon further observation, he thought he understood.

There were different ways of winning a fight, he had noticed. One way, and the way that many Gryffindors (he could name Seamus and Ginny) appeared to favor, was with power. They put everything they had into the fight, and it was hard to resist that much sheer force. Another way was endurance, which he noticed mostly with Hufflepuffs and also some Gryffindors. (Ernie, Megan, Wayne, and Colin came to mind. And Seamus again.) They simply didn’t stop. They fought through anything that came at them as if it didn’t matter. It was impressive and frightening to watch.

But Ravenclaws (and some Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, but mostly Ravenclaws) fought…for lack of a better term, smart. They were precise, calculating, and controlled. They also fought dirty, using anything they had to throw their opponent off balance. Lisa didn’t kick everyone’s ass because she was strong; she kicked ass because she had skill. She knew how. It wasn’t a matter of bravery that she volunteered for the dangerous jobs. She simply knew that she could do them. It was…logical. It occurred to Neville how frightening that really could be.

***

Vincent Crabbe did as he was told for most of his life. He wasn’t much for thinking, so he let other people do it for him. First it was his father, then Draco, and then the Carrows. And slowly over time, he began to have a thought. His father wasn’t so prestigious or successful, even ended up in Azkaban. Draco turned out to be a weak disgrace in the end. The Carrows fell to McGonagall and Potter. It was then that Vincent finally had the thought that had been forming over the years. Perhaps he should just do it himself.

The one great thought of Vincent Crabbe did not end well.

***

Megan stood on top of the Astronomy Tower thinking about her brother. He would be out of the castle by now, probably in the Hog’s Head or the passage to it. Most likely he would be complaining and worrying. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to get back. He had wanted to fight, wanted to join the DA. Megan had forbidden him. He was eleven years old, for goodness’ sake. That was no age to be fighting a war. Neither was eighteen, really. But at least she was technically an adult. Bran had his whole life ahead of him.

Midnight came with a scream, and Megan pushed those thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time to worry about what would happen to Bran or Gwen if she died. Now was the time to think of every bit of training she had gone through for the past year and hope it would be enough.

***

When fighting a battle, difficult decisions had to be made. Someone had to fight the giants, and if you were the soldier best qualified to go, you went. You could whine and complain all you liked about being terrified of giants, but that wouldn’t make the north battlements any less vulnerable. Padma told herself this as she ran through the castle after Aberforth. A cool breeze tugged at her robes as they came to a section of castle where the walls had been smashed. She could hear the screams and shouts from below. The castle shook.

“Look out!”

Padma just had time to fling herself out of the way before an enormous hand reached in through a hole in the wall and started groping around trying to find someone to grab.

“Defodio!” she shouted, and the giant roared as a huge cut appeared on his hand. It didn’t withdraw though, and Padma heard more yells from her fellow students as a second giant roared nearby.

“Reducto!” A sizeable hole appeared in the giant’s palm, though Padma thought briefly that Parvati would have blown up the whole thing. The hand withdrew, and Padma struggled to her feet.

She wanted to run away, to find Parvati and leave this battle and go home. But she squared her shoulders and ran not away, but towards.


	24. Civilian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a person who is not on active duty with a military, naval, police, or fire fighting organization.

Linda knew they wanted to ask why she didn’t join the DA. She knew they were curious, that some of them were angry. But she was so grateful when they didn’t ask.

She couldn’t really articulate the reason. She had tried out a lot of excuses to herself. ‘It’s not my fight’ had been dismissed out of hand. ‘I have career goals and other things to focus on’ was weak. ‘I wouldn’t be much help anyway’ was pointless. She knew the reason deep down. ‘I’m just not brave like you are.’

She couldn’t fight. She couldn’t risk her life like that. She would not subject herself to the torture her friends and classmates were going through. She wasn’t strong enough. She couldn’t handle it. She was a pureblood and still so scared. She knew she shouldn’t be hiding away like this. She had less to fear than most. The Creevey boys were in the DA, and they were Muggle-born. But Linda couldn’t do it. She kept her head down and went about her business in as normal a way as she could. She smiled for their victories. She cried for their losses. But when her parents asked her how her studies were going, she told them she was doing well. She continued to revise, poured herself into her schoolwork.

She comforted Megan when Wayne got detention, and she cried for hours when nobody from her dorm came back one night. When they were there in the morning looking exhausted but unharmed, she had to fight back tears again. She wouldn’t ask. Couldn’t ask where they had been.

When the time came for fight or flight, when Voldemort was at the castle gates with his army, Linda stood up numbly. She saw the faces of her friends and classmates, stony and determined and so, so _brave_. She saw Zacharias practically sprinting out the doors. She saw her sister waiting for her, unable to fight because she was too young. Louise had wanted to stay. Linda was glad she couldn’t.

Then Hannah reached up and touched her shoulder gently. Linda looked at her, trying not to cry again. She had cried too much this year. Crying was all she had done.

“It’s okay to save yourself,” Hannah said gently, “Nobody thinks any the worse of you.” She nodded towards the others. Ernie, Julian, Wayne, Susan, Sophie, Sally-Anne, and Megan. They all looked back at her. There was no resentment in their eyes. Megan jerked her head towards the doors.

“Go on. It’s okay.”

Linda nodded tearfully, squeezed Hannah’s hand, and with one last, desperate look at them, she ran off to join her sister.

***

Zacharias took a deep breath. Julian patted him on the knee, and he stood up. The DA took no notice at first. He cleared his throat. Gradually, the noise died down as they all turned to look at him. Zacharias swallowed, opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

“I’m leaving,” he said. The silence intensified. Several people were staring at him open-mouthed. Some looked angry. He looked down at Julian, who was still smiling sadly up at him. “I’m not going to tell the Carrows or Snape or anyone. I’m still loyal to the cause and all, but I can’t do this anymore. I want to live.”

“Smith, we all want to live,” Colin Creevey began angrily.

“I know. But I can’t die for that.” Zacharias looked nervously at Neville and Ginny. Neither of them looked happy. He sighed and pulled his galleon out of his pocket. “Here.” He walked up to Neville and placed it in his hand. “Good luck.” He turned and made his way through the crowd of DA members and out the door.

***

When McGonagall announced that those who were overage could stay and fight, Mandy met Tracey’s eyes across the gap between their tables. If the overage were the only ones staying, they needed every wand they could get. Tracey shook her head silently, desperately, as McGonagall went on.

When Pansy shouted for someone to grab Harry, Mandy stood with the rest of her house. She glanced at Tracey and saw with a surge of pride that her wand was out too. But she stood up with the rest of the Slytherins and walked toward the doors. It took Mandy a moment to notice her doubling back, and then Tracey was at her side.

“Mandy…” Tracey said as the younger Ravenclaws stood up all around them and started filing past. “Please. Please come with me. You’ve done your part for this war.”

“What if me leaving gets someone killed? What if I could save someone? My friends are here, Tracey! I can’t just leave them to die!”

“What if staying gets _you_ killed?” Tracey said angrily. “Did you think of that? If you need to help, help get the younger students out and leave with them. Help _me_.”

“But-”

“Please,” Tracey said, quiet again. “I can’t lose you too. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t.”

Mandy’s expression softened. With one last glance back at her friends, she nodded. “Alright. Let’s help the younger students get out. I’ll go with you.”

Tracey kissed her. “Thank you.”

Mandy hugged Lisa and Morag, and waved sadly to the rest of her classmates. Then she and Tracey hurried out of the Hall.

***

Quisilla heard about the battle the day after it had happened. The news was spreading throughout the wizarding world, but the first she found out about it was when Theodore Nott appeared in her kitchen.

“Ah, Rivers, good to see you. War’s over, so you should probably come back and see Runcorn,” he said quite matter-of-factly.

“Theodore? What? What’s happened?”

Theodore rolled his eyes. “There was a big battle. Dark Lord’s dead, Potter victorious, Death Eaters are being rounded up, you can come back now. It’s safe.”

“He’s dead?”

“He’s dead.”

“And Lucy? Lucy’s alright?”

“She’s…” Theodore hesitated, “She’s alive. Alright might be an exaggeration though. She was in the battle, and now she can’t use her legs. She’s barely talked to anyone. So let’s go.”

Quisilla wasted no more time in following him back to Hogwarts.


	25. Martyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a person who is put to death or endures great suffering on behalf of any belief, principle, or cause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is literally about suffering. And death. And all that stuff. There is torture, there are injuries, it's not particularly graphic but if you're triggered by that kind of thing proceed with caution. I don't want to give people panic attacks or something.

_Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou…_

“…he saying? Shush!”

_…and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus._

“…think he’s praying.”

_Holy Mary Mother of God…_

“…have pegged him as the praying type.”

_Pray for us sinners now…_

“…can peg Finnigan as anything?”

“He’s coming round.”

_…and at the hour of our death. Amen. Hail Mary, full of grace…_

“Seamus?”

Seamus opened his eyes as far as they would go through the bruises around them. He blinked and the faces above him came into clearer focus. Anthony, Michael, and Terry. He blinked again. And Neville! He remembered.

~*~*~

“Class dismissed!” Carrow said, “Except you, Finnigan. Sit down.”

Seamus risked a glance at Parvati and Lavender, both of whom looked terrified. But there was nothing else for him to do but obey. They were outnumbered, and there was nothing to be gained by resisting. He sat. This couldn’t be good, though he couldn’t think of what he had done to provoke them this time. The DA been keeping a lower profile ever since Michael got tortured, and even more so since Neville went into hiding. He didn’t have much time to wonder though. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in a dungeon, wandless and chained to the wall.

_Great._

“The fuck do you want?” he spat. The Carrows laughed, and Alecto slapped him across the face.

“Language.”

They wanted information. “Where’s Longbottom?” “How are you communicating?” “Who are your spies?” “Are you in contact with the Weasleys?”

Seamus held his tongue. They cursed him and punched him and burned him, and Seamus screamed like anything, but there was no way he would tell them. No way.

“I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and earth,” he whispered at a pause in the relentless questioning.

“What’s that? Speak up, Finnigan.”

“And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, Our Lord, Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified; died, and was buried,” he said. He remembered hour after hour with his father, learning the prayers because that was what good little Catholic children did. Because it was something he and his father could both do even if Seamus was a wizard, even if his mother didn’t really believe or practice because she was a witch. It was something his father could teach him. “He descended into Hell; the third day He arose again from the dead; He ascended into Heaven, sitteth at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the living and the dead.”

“Crucio!”

Seamus grunted in pain but refused to stop. “I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.”

“Who gives a damn what you believe, Finnigan? Answer the question! Where’s Longbottom?”

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name; thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

A punch in the face wasn’t unexpected, but it hurt on top of the other bruises already forming there.

“Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses…”

~*~*~

“How…did you find me?” he asked as soon as he could form new words.

“Davis saw the Carrows carrying you through the dungeons. She told Mandy, Mandy told the rest of us, and then we went and got you,” Michael said, “What happened?”

“Wanted me to tell them…a bunch of stuff. Didn’t.”

There was a long pause.

“Shit,” Michael said finally, “They’re really trying to get rid of us now.”

“Looks like it,” Neville said, sounding very worried, “But the rest of the school needs us as long as we can last. Seamus can stay here, but you three weren’t seen, and someone has to tell the others what’s happening.”

“So keep going until they’re actually trying to kill us?” Terry said, though it didn’t sound like much of a question.

“Basically, yes.”

***

Lavender tried to move, but she couldn’t tell if it worked or not. There had been…something. A curse or an explosion, and then she had fallen and landed hard. She heard the screams around her as if they were coming from somewhere far away. Then there was sudden weight on her and something was clawing and biting at her face and neck. She tried to move again, to throw it off. There was a loud bang somewhere nearby, and it flew away. She was bleeding and each wound felt like it was on fire, but she tried to sit up anyway. Had to find her wand. Had to fight.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up in the Great Hall. Her face and neck still hurt, but it was better than it had been. People were moving around her, but it wasn’t the screams and bangs of battle anymore. She opened her eyes.

“She’s awake!” Parvati was there, exhausted and filthy, but there and…smiling.

“What happened?” she mumbled. It hurt to move her face too much.

“We won. Voldemort’s dead.”

Smiling hurt, but Lavender couldn’t help it. “We won?”

“Yes. I’ll explain later. You were…there was a curse, and then you fell, and then Greyback…it’s a miracle you’re alive.”

“You’re ok?”

“I’m ok.”

Lavender smiled, small and weak but genuine. “Good.”

 

There was a lot of scarring of course. No cure for werewolf bites. But Lavender didn’t care. She had survived, and that was nothing to hide. She talked to Bill Weasley a lot, trying to make sense of it all. He seemed to like having someone to talk to too. He said it helped to have Fleur and to just go about his day as usual. He also said it sucked to have been so good-looking and to have that taken away. Lavender understood. She hated the stares that had once been so flattering. Now they were horrified, disgusted, or worse, pitying.

She refused to be ashamed. 

***

Anthony was almost sure he had read this before. Possibly several times. His eyes felt full of sand and something was pounding inside his head.

_This procedure should never be performed on an unconscious patient. Doing so could result in a permanent sleeping state or death. A better alternative to this procedure is listed under potion remedies, but in the event that potion ingredients are not available, follow the steps below._

“Tony?”

Anthony looked up. Mike and Terry were standing there looking sleepy but determined.

“Hi.”

“Go to bed, Tony,” Mike said.

“No, I have to learn this. What if-”

“You can’t learn anything without getting some more sleep first,” Terry said, “You’ve done enough for one night.”

“No I haven’t. It’s never enough. Someone always gets hurt in some way I can’t fix. Look at Seamus. That’s just bruises and a few broken bones, but I can’t even fix that.”

“That’s not your fault. The Carrows did something. Finnigan doesn’t blame you.”

“ _I_ blame me.”

“Well, that’s stupid. Come on, Tony. You can’t save everyone from everything. Worry about yourself for once. You haven’t slept properly in weeks,” Mike said, closing the book Anthony had been reading.

It was true enough, but Anthony still didn’t feel right.

“Do we have to stun you?” Terry said, and Anthony knew he would do it if need be.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go to bed.”

“Good,” Mike said seriously, “Because we need Anthony Goldstein our friend as much as Anthony Goldstein our Healer.”

***

He wasn’t a fighter, really. Never had been, never wanted to be. But this was Voldemort and Death Eaters and suppression of intellectual freedom and killing of innocents. So he fought anyway. He in fact was responsible for some of their more successful missions, setting up booby traps and that kind of thing in passages they didn’t want the Carrows to be able to use. He was good at traps.

When it came time for the battle, he stayed. It was likely that if they lost, he would die anyway. He might as well die _for_ something. Besides, at least he wasn’t alone.

 

Neville ran through grass and dirt and blood towards what seemed to be a half dozen Death Eaters and one student standing. They were moving, fighting, and miraculously the student appeared to be winning.

But Neville had heard the scream. He wouldn’t be surprised if the whole school had heard that scream. It was like watching Harry in the Department of Mysteries all over again. The raw grief and rage echoed in his mind and shook him to the core.

There were only two Death Eaters left standing now, and Lisa was fighting both at once with a ferocity that Neville had never seen before. He raised his wand, but before he could act, there was a flash of green light and a loud crack. Both Death Eaters fell dead to the ground. Lisa stood there, panting and shaking.

With great reluctance, Neville looked down by her feet. Even in the dim light there was no mistaking him. Blood covered Stephen’s forehead and hair like some horrible parody of a crown. But his eyes were closed, and his face was peaceful. Neville looked back up at Lisa, and it was almost worse.

She stared at him blankly. If eyes were windows to the soul, hers had been shuttered and bolted. Without a word, she bent down and pressed a hand to Stephen’s cheek with a tenderness and reverence that was hard to reconcile with the brutal way she had been fighting moments before. Then she stood up and ran back into the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....................  
> ...........  
> ......  
> ...sorry.


	26. Victim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a person who suffers from a destructive or injurious action or agency; a person who is deceived or cheated, as by his or her own emotions or ignorance, by the dishonesty of others, or by some impersonal agency

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right so this chapter was kind of weird to write because victimizing characters without victimizing them and all. And because there are so many different ways to think of victims and I wanted to play around with definitions and connotations and stuff. But I hope I pulled it off!

Theodore tried to explain the situation as he and Quisilla walked from the gates to the hospital wing. The trouble was he barely understood it himself. The big picture made sense, but the little picture with Lucy in it made no sense at all.

“She’s just sitting there and glaring mostly. I tried to get her to talk to me, but it didn’t work.”

“Do you know what exactly happened?” Quisilla asked.

Theodore shrugged. “Apparently the boy who carried her in died later. She just said there was an explosion.”

“Right. And do you know what happened to her father?”

Theodore’s face twitched in a way that Quisilla very much wanted to analyze. “He’s awaiting trial. I’m not sure if he was in the battle or not. Either way, they’ll probably want Lucy to testify.”

“Brilliant,” Quisilla said sarcastically, followed by a string of Russian syllables Theodore was pretty sure were swears.

“Why is that bad? She’s never been particularly subtle about how much she hates him.”

Quisilla sighed. “Testifying doesn’t mean telling people she hates him. It means telling people what he did. It means confronting it herself. It means a lot of emotions on top of what she’s already going through, and Lucy, in case you haven’t noticed, isn’t very good at dealing with emotions. She’s just been crippled, Theodore. Look, I don’t normally talk to people about Lucy because she doesn’t want me to. But you two seem to have gotten closer, so I need to tell you some things. Lucy has spent her entire life trying to make sure that she never has to be dependent on anyone for anything. Because of the relationship between her mother and father. She doesn’t want pity or charity or help. And now she’s stuck in a wheelchair. Think about that, and hurry up.”

***

Alicia was feeling giggly as she entered the dormitory. She always did after snogging someone, which was perfectly natural thank you.

“Oh God, who is it now?” Angelina asked as soon as Alicia sat down. They had an arrangement. Alicia had consistently terrible taste in men, so she asked Angelina’s advice before getting too serious. Whether or not she followed that advice was up to her, but she always asked.

“I already know you’re going to disapprove, but we only snogged a bit and I’m not taking it any further than that. We’re not even going to date. This was just a one-time thing, however nice it was.”

“Okay. Who?”

“Cormac McLaggen.”

“Alicia, no!” Angelina groaned and smacked her own forehead. “Not only is he a complete ass, but he also _has a girlfriend_.”

Alicia sat up straight, eyes wide. “What? He never said! That bastard! I can’t believe this. I mean alright, I can. It’s exactly the sort of thing that would happen to me. But still, ugh! Who is she? We have to tell her. She can’t keep dating him.”

“She’s a fifth year, Hufflepuff. Sally, was it? No, Sally-Anne. Sally-Anne Perks. That’s all I know.”

“We have to find her. She is dating a cheating scumbag.”

“Alright, let’s go. Someone probably knows where she is.”

 

Sally-Anne knew, logically, that Cormac had never really been a good boyfriend and that she was happier without him. She also knew that he ended up in the hospital wing during Quidditch try-outs thanks to the combined efforts of Alicia and Sophie and a few acquaintances.

It still hurt.

***

He was sitting in a waiting room surrounded by people. Not dementors, but people. They were talking, not whimpering or screaming or crying. The last time he had been this warm was…months ago, though he didn’t know how many. Someone had tried to talk to him and explain things earlier, but he couldn’t pay attention. There was so much light and warmth. He could remember his name and his happy memories again. It was all so beautiful, and it wasn’t enough.

Because he still couldn’t stop thinking about it. About the cold and the dark and the thoughts that made him want to cry and sob and sleep forever. Because he was out of Azkaban, but his mother was still dead, and he was still a freak, and he still hadn’t seen his dad even though the people around him were being greeted by loved ones. They were hugging and kissing and thanking everything under the sun for their reunion. He waited and tried to think of the happy memories he now had access to.

“Kevin!”

He looked up, hardly daring to hope. “Morag?” She was there, disheveled and older looking and her red hair chopped short, but there. The muscles in his face could barely remember how to smile, but they were certainly trying.

She sat down next to him and immediately pulled him into a hug. He hesitated before hugging her back. She smelled like sweat and dirt and blood, but also like Morag and home. For the first time in a long time, he felt safe.

“It’s over, Kevin. You-Know-Who’s dead. We won.”

They broke apart so they could see each other’s faces. “You fought?” Kevin said. His voice sounded strange to him, and apparently to Morag too, but she didn’t mention it.

“I did. There was a big battle at Hogwarts. Harry came back and Death Eaters followed. I don’t know all the details yet.”

Kevin frowned. “A big battle? Is…who…how many…”

“It…” Morag hesitated. “It wasn’t good, Kevin. But you shouldn’t think about that right now. You have to heal.”

It was difficult to argue against that when so much of him didn’t want to know, so Kevin nodded. “Where’s my dad? Has anyone told him? He must be worried.”

Morag flinched.

“Morag? Where’s my dad?” Tears welled up in both of their eyes. “No, Morag, no. _Where is my dad_?”

“Kevin…”

“No! NO!” Heads turned in their direction as Morag flinched again and reached for her ears. But Kevin barely noticed. “No, Morag, no no don’t tell me this. You can’t, you can’t do this to me! Please, no.” Morag was crying, and people around them were whispering. Kevin felt tears sliding down his own face. “Where’s my dad? WHERE’S MY DAD?”

“I’m sorry, Kevin. I’m so sorry.”

Kevin fell forward into her arms in a sobbing mess. It had been his first thought when he got out. _Dad isn’t dead. It was just the dementors._ But apparently he was wrong.

***

“Never thought I’d feel sorry for Draco Malfoy,” Dean said quietly, nudging Seamus to look at where the Malfoys were seated at one of the long tables. They looked disheveled, defeated, and uncertain.

Seamus frowned. “Why do you? He’s always been a bullying bastard. And now it’s turned around and bit him in the arse.”

Dean shook his head. “I think it’s more complicated than that. He never had much of a choice, did he? And when we were captured, he didn’t want to identify Harry.”

“When was this?”

Dean explained briefly about his capture and subsequent escape with Dobby and the rest of them. “And I heard Harry and Ron talking about him at Bill and Fleur’s place. He said Draco was supposed to kill Dumbledore, but he didn’t. Lowered his wand before Snape got there. Look, I’m not saying he should be forgiven for everything, but I feel bad for him. He’s had You-Know-Who living in his house for the past, what, two years? Gotta feel sorry for anyone like that.”

Seamus shrugged. “He brought it on himself, I think. He could have walked away.”

Dean knew it would be pointless to argue, though he could think of several logical points, even including some comparisons to Seamus himself. But Seamus was angry and hurt, and there were years ahead of them to have this discussion. They left the Great Hall a little while later, thinking that sleep would be a great idea. As they walked by the Malfoys, Dean made eye contact with Draco and nodded politely. Draco looked bemused and nodded back uncertainly. His parents looked equally confused and wary. Dean noticed, among other things, just how pale they all looked. He felt his sympathy for Draco increase. He may not have been guiltless, but he wasn’t entirely to blame, and he had suffered plenty. Dean hoped in a detached sort of way that things would turn out alright for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could probably say a lot about this chapter, but ideally the chapter should speak for itself.  
> I will say this: Kevin, honey, I'm so sorry. You don't deserve this.


	27. Prophet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a person who foretells or predicts what is to come; a spokesperson of some doctrine, cause, or movement; a person who speaks for God or a deity, or by divine inspiration

In seventh year, Parvati skived off Divination. It was a dangerous thing to do and out of character, so Lavender and Padma confronted her about it. She tried to brush it off, to make them change the subject, but they persisted, so she had to relent.

“I didn’t want to go, because I’m scared.”

Lavender and Padma looked at her, nonplussed. She sighed and explained further.

“I know you don’t believe in any of it, Padma. But I do See things sometimes. And lately, I’ve been scared to look because every time I do I See death and destruction.” She looked up at them with tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to see us dying.”

Lavender looked terrified, but Padma was calm as ever. “The future can change, Parvati. Divination might not be fake, but it certainly isn’t reliable. Just because you See something, doesn’t mean it has to happen.”

Parvati bit her lip. “But I don’t want to see it.”

“Talk to Firenze. He knows more about it than I do. But you can’t skive off lessons now with the Carrows watching us.”

Parvati nodded.

 

“Er…Professor?” Parvati approached nervously as the rest of the class filed out of the classroom. Firenze looked at her curiously. “I…I’m sorry I skived off the other day. I just…I’m scared of the things I See sometimes.”

“You see war and death in the future,” Firenze said knowingly, “So do I. But however certain it is that there will be battle, we cannot know the outcome yet. For centuries, centaurs have studied the stars in hopes of finding the future there. But even we cannot always be right. The future will always be uncertain. The only thing we can do is look for clues and fight for the outcome we want. That is where centaurs have failed in the past.”

“But I don’t want to see my sister’s face covered in blood.”

Firenze went very still. “When did you See that?”

“The lesson before last. We were watching the fire, and it just…happened. Like when we did crystal balls with Professor Trelawney, but even clearer. And I know it can change, but I still don’t want to see it.”

“But perhaps by seeing it, you can prevent it.” Firenze gazed into the distance for a moment. Then he looked back down at Parvati. “You must attend classes, if only to keep out of detention. But if you do not wish to See, I will not force you to look.”

***

_They will fight hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder._  
_With each curse cast, their eyes grow that much colder._  
_But they’ll fight on still while love burns in their souls,  
_ _In the hopes that perhaps one just might remain whole._

_He’ll fight for his friends and fight for his mother._  
_She’ll fight for her sister, her parents, her brother._  
_They fight for the children they want to protect.  
_ … 

Wayne sat with his quill poised over the page, waiting for inspiration. Finally he groaned in frustration and let his head fall onto the table.

“Writing troubles?” Megan asked next to him.

“Nothing good rhymes with ‘protect,’” Wayne grumbled.

Megan hummed sympathetically and went back to her book. Wayne lifted his head again, only to find the parchment stuck to it.

“Fuck.” He pulled the parchment away and examined the smudged ink. It was still legible – barely.

“Wayne, your forehead.”

“Fuck.”

***

Sophie and Susan were waiting in the common room for Sally-Anne to come back from detention. Sophie couldn’t be convinced to go to bed, and Susan couldn’t be convinced that Sophie wouldn’t do anything stupid if they were left alone. So they sat.

“Do you think there will be a battle?” Sophie asked, evidently lost in thought, staring into the fire.

Susan shrugged. “Sometimes I think there has to be. How else could this end? But other times…I don’t know. Maybe Harry won’t come back. Maybe we’ll just graduate and become like the other adults. Maybe we’ll go straight from Hogwarts to Azkaban.” Susan shook her head. “But I don’t think we’d let that happen, do you?”

“No, I suppose not,” Sophie said quietly, “I suppose it’s up to us.”

“In the end, yes.”

Susan waited for Sophie to reply and had almost given up when they suddenly said, “If there is a battle, I don’t think I’ll survive.”

“What?” Susan looked at them, aghast. “But Sophie…”

Sophie shook their head. “It’s not…I’m not just being pessimistic. But I’m not a great fighter, and I just…can you promise not to tell?”

Susan nodded earnestly, eyes wide.

“I think…even if I do become a great fighter, there’s Sally-Anne. She won’t stay out of it, Susan. I know she won’t. She’s too good. But I could never let her be hurt. And she will. Or she would if I wasn’t there. I won’t let her die, Susan. But I think that just might kill me.”

***

There wasn’t a very large Jewish population in Hogwarts, but there was one, and Anthony was the oldest.

Hosting a Seder in the Room of Requirement wasn’t possible. There was too much risk that the DA could be compromised. Not all of the Jewish students were in the DA after all, and all of them were invited. Of course, none of them were Death Eaters or anything, luckily, but two of them were Slytherins and the less they knew, the better. For the DA and for them.

Still, it didn’t seem like they would be getting permission to use the Great Hall or the kitchens specially this year. The Carrows weren’t exactly believers in cultural diversity.

So it was up to Anthony to find a way to host it. He struggled with this task for a few days before deciding to ask Professor Flitwick for advice. He got advice, and he also got Flitwick’s office for a location. He spread the word and spent the next few days making sure everything was ready. A quiet trip to the kitchens ensured they would have enough of the right foods, and a brief consultation with Flitwick ensured their safety.

To his relief, everything went smoothly. Or at least more smoothly than he had been expecting, so he decided to call it a win.

 

“This is the bread of affliction that our fathers ate in the land of Egypt. Whoever is hungry, let him come and eat; whoever is in need, let him come and conduct the Seder of Passover. This year we are here; next year in the land of Israel. This year we are slaves; next year we will be free people.”

Anthony moved the tray aside.

_Next year we will be free people._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go!  
> Any Jewish readers (or more informed gentile readers) who notice anything wrong ever, please let me know. I did research, and I think this chapter is pretty innocuous, but I don't want anyone to notice something off and not tell me.  
> Next up, liars! And maybe someday I'll write an chapter that isn't super upsetting. Maybe.


	28. Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a person who tells lies

Terry stared at the page in front of him, but it all looked like gibberish. He wasn’t even sure what book it was. He turned the page anyway.

“Terry, are you alright?”

It was Lisa, and she sounded uncharacteristically gentle. Terry supposed he should have been grateful, but he was just annoyed.

“I’m fine.”

“Really?” She was back to her usual tone, but skeptical to say the least.

“Yes,” Terry said flatly, “I’m not the one who just got tortured.”

Lisa frowned. “True. But he’s one of your best friends.”

“Alright. I’m fine, considering. Happy?”

“No,” Lisa sighed.

“I’m going to see if he’ll let me in now.”

‘He’ was Anthony, and as much as Terry loved him, he also kind of hated him at the moment. Five minutes ago, Terry had been kicked out of the boys’ dorm to wait in the common room. Apparently his edginess was getting in the way of Anthony’s concentration, which made no sense because Terry wasn’t edgy.

“Tony, let me in.”

“Are you calm?” Tony called back.

“Yes,” Terry answered instantly.

“Are you lying?”

“No.” Maybe a little bit, but if that was the only way he could see Mike, he would power through it.

“…Fine. Stephen, open the door for him.”

Moments later, Terry was at Mike’s bedside. Anthony glanced up at him. “You were lying.”

“I needed to see him. I want to help.”

Anthony sighed. “I don’t know if there’s much we can do at this point. He really just needs rest.”

Terry huffed and sat down on the edge of Mike’s bed, careful not to jostle him.

“What about you?” Anthony said.

“What about me?”

“Are you okay?”

Terry rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. I’m not the one who just got tortured.

“No, you just watched your best friend being tortured for over an hour.”

“So did you,” Terry pointed out.

Anthony nodded. “And I cried a lot and healed him. You haven’t done either of those things because you internalize stuff like this and let it eat away at you for ages until Mike or I pull it out and make you deal with it.”

“I’m just gonna…go check on the others,” Stephen said awkwardly.

“Thanks for the help,” Anthony said to him, and Stephen left.

Terry crossed his arms. “I don’t internalize things. I’m fine.”

Anthony sighed. “Terry.”

***

It was well known that Aurelia Zabini was a dangerous woman to marry. Blaise knew it as well as almost anyone. He was the son of her sixth husband, who had died before he was born. The seventh had come along when he was three, and he had died two years later. Blaise had been asked all sorts of questions that didn’t make much sense to a five-year-old. He had answered them honestly of course, and nothing ever came of it.

At sixteen years old, he knew better. His mother was beautiful and charismatic, and in her own way she cared about Blaise very much. She just wasn’t very good with children. But as he had grown, Blaise had gathered knowledge about his father, his dead stepfather, and the other five husbands his mother had had before. And while he was sure most of them didn’t deserve to die, it wasn’t like they were especially _nice_ men either. Except Husband #3, but Blaise was pretty sure he’d actually died of heart attack. He had been old.

People asked him about his mother sometimes, though few were brave or stupid enough to outright ask if his mother was a murderer. Not like he would tell them anyway. He loved his mother and the life she had given him. If keeping them safe and happy meant the occasional white lie, well, Blaise had no problem with that.

When it was Theo’s dad though, things got a bit more complicated. He didn’t know much about Theo’s relationship to his father, but from what he could tell, it wasn’t necessarily good. Still, it was Theo’s _dad_ , and that probably meant something. Not that Blaise would really know.

As far as he could tell, he had two options. Keep quiet, or tell Theo his dad might be marrying a murderer. But in the end, he figured it wouldn’t change anything. Mr. Nott knew the rumors and was set to marry anyway. And it was possible he would be fine. Blaise’s mother wasn’t young anymore. She might be ready to settle down.

“Anything I need to know about being your step-brother?” Theo asked one evening.

“Not particularly.”

***

Daphne plastered a look of cool indifference onto her face as she walked into Transfiguration. She sat down and took out her homework just before the bell rang. A casual glance around the classroom revealed that the Hufflepuffs were all there, though Hopkins had a black eye; Draco was actually present for once; Pansy was trying to sneak in some last minute edits to her essay, and Blaise, as usual, looked bored.

The lesson started, and Daphne paid attention, took notes, and answered questions when she could. Everything was normal. This was another ordinary lesson in an ordinary day.

_You need to mean it, Greengrass._

Her hand shook ever so slightly on the next letter, and she was sure someone would notice, but no one said anything. She scoffed mentally. This was no time for dramatics. She was perfectly alright. She continued to take notes, and her hand didn’t shake again.

***

“Don’t worry, Mum,” Justin said, “I’ll be fine.”


	29. Honest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> showing uprightness and fairness; sincere; frank; genuine or unadulterated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god this chapter was so hard to write. It might say something about me that I find liars much easier to write than honesty.

Morag’s face gave everything away. It was actually a bit of a problem sometimes. She just couldn’t control her facial expressions.

It was how Kevin had known that Morag and Terry would break up. It was why he almost never fell for any tricks she tried to play on him. It was why Kevin was the one who told Stephen where to meet them on Valentine’s Day in sixth year. Morag would have been too smiley, and he would have guessed something was up. And her face was what told Kevin that his father was dead.

It would make sense for the worst day of Morag’s life to be the day of the Battle of Hogwarts. It was the day she lost her friends and her hearing, a day of trauma and bloodshed. But ultimately it was also a day of victory. The worst day of her life was probably the day after. Because that was when, exhausted and battered and wanting nothing more than sleep, she went to get Kevin. And that was when he learned his dad was dead because her stupid face couldn’t keep anything to itself. And when they finally fell asleep, tangled in a heap on Morag’s bed with Will on the floor next to them, they both had nightmares.

It probably should have been the best day of Morag’s life, because the war was over, and Kevin was back. But it wasn’t.

***

“Seamus, could I have a quick word?”

Su hung back as the rest of the DA headed toward the door. Seamus joined her.

“Sure.”

“You, er, seemed really upset yesterday. When Neville was yelling at you. And Ginny. And Parvati and Lavender. And Megan. And Wayne.”

Seamus shrugged uncomfortably. “Well…yeah.”

“I just…you know they’re yelling because they care, right? They don’t want you to get hurt. None of us want you to get hurt, but you seem to have a habit of doing so. It’s scary, and they worry. We worry. I think they forgot to say that in all the yelling.”

“Oh,” Seamus said and shoved his hands in his pockets, “Yeah. I mean, I know. I know they worry, and they yell ‘cause they’re scared I’ll do something stupid. Which I probably will. But it is nice to hear it. Erm. Thanks.”

Su smiled. “No problem.”

***

Padma didn’t know Hannah very well, but she liked what she did know of her. Except for this. They were waiting together in the Room of Requirement, having arrived early for one of their late-night graffiti missions. And Hannah would not. Stop. Talking. Not just talking. Worrying. As if Padma didn’t know all the things that could go wrong.

“…and what if we don’t get caught tonight, but they do something tomorrow? And they’re not stupid. They know who our leaders are. What if they get in trouble anyway? It’s not like the Carrows are actually going to wait for _proof_.”

“Hannah,” Padma said as patiently as she could, “Please…shut up.”

Hannah’s mouth snapped shut. “Oh. Right. Sorry. It’s a…I feel better if I just say everything. That way it’s not bottled up.”

“If you’re that scared, why are you doing this?” Padma asked. She didn’t mean to sound rude, but Hannah’s nervous babbling before missions grated her nerves.

Hannah shrugged. “Because this is more important than being scared. But I’m not good at the whole heroic stoicism thing.”

“Oh.” Padma thought. “I guess I do it differently. Bottle everything up until it’s over. But if you need to get the freaking out over with, go ahead.” It was annoying, but if it made that much difference to Hannah, she could put up with it.

Hannah smiled shakily. “Thanks. But I think I’m alright now.”

***

Zacharias always took responsibility for his actions. At least he tried to. And he had no patience for those who did not.

So when his muttered, “This is such a waste of time,” didn’t go as unheard by Alecto Carrow as he’d meant, he was prepared to face the consequences. He was not prepared, when she turned to face them with a glower and asked who said that, for Wayne Hopkins to stand up.

“I said it,” Wayne said loudly, ignoring Megan’s hand tugging on his sleeve, “This class is a complete waste of time.”

Zacharias opened his mouth to argue, but no sound came out. He looked sideways at Julian, who refused to make eye contact.

Wayne was always just a step away from trouble with the Carrows, possibly because his mother was Muggle born. Possibly because of his personality. Alecto jumped at the excuse to dole out punishment. Zacharias could only watch silently.

Muggle Studies was their last class of the day. Zacharias could tell the silencing charm had been lifted, but he still said nothing as he and Julian made their way to the common room ahead of their classmates. Julian was quiet too. They didn’t need to say anything. Zacharias would be angry for a while, but eventually he would forgive Julian because he knew Julian was acting in Zacharias’s best interests.

When Wayne eventually made it back up to the dormitory, Zacharias and Julian were both there.

“Hi,” Wayne said awkwardly. Julian smiled at him, but Zacharias did not.

“What the hell was that?” he asked furiously.

Wayne looked shocked. “What do you mean?”

“Why the hell did you say it was you? I said it, I should have taken the consequences.”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice,” Wayne said coldly, “I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“Well, you weren’t.”

“Zach…” Julian said placatingly.

“No,” Zacharias insisted, “If I mess up, I face the consequences. You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle, Hopkins. I don’t want people lying for me.”

“Fine,” Wayne said, glaring, “Next time I’ll let you get beaten up.”

“Good. Now get some rest. You look like shit.”


	30. Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a person or thing that leads; a guiding or directing head, as of an army, movement, or political group

Pansy Parkinson spent the better part of six years competing with Daphne for the role of leader of their little group. And for six years, she thought she was doing well. But in seventh year she realized that being a leader was not all it was cut out to be. Daphne was too busy freaking out and trying to keep her sister safe. Pansy worried about her little brother too of course, but he was smart enough to keep out of things, even if he was too soft. She wasn’t that concerned.

But the fact was that with Daphne out of the running, Pansy was the only one left to lead. And with Quisilla gone to Russia and Lucy gone to…wherever it was she went these days, it was a sad, diminished group left in her care. She did her best though, dragging Daphne to classes she no longer wanted to go to, making jokes for Millicent’s benefit. And her own of course.

And at the end of the year with the Dark Lord at the gates demanding Potter’s life in return for their safety, she took the lead again, only to have the rest of the school turn on her. Daphne didn’t look at her. Millicent clung to her robe like a scared child, and Pansy felt her will collapse. She walked at the front of the line of students headed to the secret passage to safety, but she no longer felt like a leader. She no longer felt like anything much.

***

Ernie looked down at Justin – not Justin, not anymore, just a body that looked like him – and sat down heavily, Susan and Hannah on either side of him. He put his arms around them, careful not to touch Susan’s bandages. Both girls leaned into him. Hannah was crying, but Susan looked too exhausted to cry. Ernie just felt detached, like he was drifting through space. Susan, Hannah, and Justin’s body were the only real things.

He had been hoping Justin would come back after the battle. He had been looking forward to it. But when Justin showed up out of the tunnel to the Hog’s Head, Ernie had already been overjoyed. He had filled him in on what was happening, had taken his arm and dragged him up the stairs and to the Great Hall with Susan and Hannah. Justin had smiled. Ernie had smiled. Looking back, Ernie wished he had sent him away. Justin hadn’t been training with the DA for months. He had been hiding. He wasn’t supposed to charge into battle, and Ernie…Ernie was in charge of the Hufflepuffs. He should have thought, should have realized that Justin should have stayed away.

Some part of him whispered that no, Justin would have fought no matter what Ernie did. But that part of him was all too easy to ignore.

***

Susan found Megan in a corridor near Gryffindor Tower. She was kneeling in the dust where a hole had been smashed into the wall, shock and horror written plainly on her face. Padma was next to her, trying to get her moving, shouting to be heard above the roars from the nearby giants and the crashes and screams of the battle. Susan knew, without having to think very hard, what had happened, and her breath caught in her throat. There was only one person who had been fighting up here whose death could make Megan look like that. But Susan steeled herself against the thought, shut it out because she had a job to do for now.

“Megan, come on,” she said, just loudly enough to be heard, “You have to move.”

Megan just kept staring ahead at the hole in the wall.

“It was -” Padma started to say.

“I know,” Susan interrupted, “Megan, please. You can’t stay here. It’s dangerous. We still need you.”

Megan shut her eyes tightly and opened them again. There were no tears yet. She looked at Susan.

“Ok. Let’s go.”

Susan took Megan’s hand, which she had never thought small until now, and pulled her to her feet.

***

Ginny didn’t come back after Easter. She was safely in hiding, but the DA would have to go on without her. Of the three leaders they’d had at the beginning of the year, only Neville was left now. He didn’t feel like he could do it at first, but after several people talked and smacked some sense into him, he did it anyway. And he found, to his own surprise, that he was good at it.

So now it was up to him to make the tough decisions, to pick up his friends, his soldiers, and keep pulling them toward the battle he knew was coming. And it was up to him, even when the teachers and the order joined in, to remind them that the battle wasn’t over. Even with Harry dead, the battle wasn’t over until they decided it was over. And as their leader, the tough decisions came down to him.

He had spent enough time with the people behind him to know, with absolute certainty, that they would not back down if he did not back down. He looked for a moment at Ginny and Luna, and then, for some reason, back at Seamus. Neville couldn’t make out his expression, but he remembered clearly.

_“People will fight for things if someone leads them.”_

And he thought he finally understood.


	31. Pariah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an outcast; any person or animal that is generally despised or avoided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so late and short! I just went back to school and also have like six other stories going in my head and all, so. Next chapter will hopefully be longer and not such a long wait!

Tracey didn’t have many friends growing up. She tried to make friends with the other children at school, but they all thought she was weird. Her mother tried to help, but it didn’t really work. None of her mother’s magical friends had children her age, and knowing how different she was from Muggle children didn’t make friendship easy. She couldn’t wait to go to Hogwarts.

She was happy at first to be sorted into Slytherin. And she did make some friends, mostly in the second years. But the other girls in her year were apparently very concerned with blood purity. And Tracey…wasn’t. She had been raised by a Muggle mother after all. So as much as she wanted friends, she figured she wouldn’t be finding them within her house. Trying to reach out to other students was difficult too though. Slytherins were generally hated. She had half-hoped to be friends with Terry, Stephen, and Su, who had seemed nice enough on the train, but they lost interest after the sorting.

For the first month, she was mostly alone.

She and Mandy were paired up during Herbology, and it went fine. Tracey hadn’t expected it to go any further. But when they were asked to pair up again, Mandy actually sought her out and invited her to join her group (there was an odd number). The other girl in their trio, Lisa, didn’t seem fond of Tracey, but Mandy kept finding Tracey, over and over, until Tracey was forced to accept that she had made a friend.

***

Dean thought briefly, late one night when he couldn’t fall asleep for fear of snatchers, that he could probably escape into the Muggle world fairly easily. But then he realized that he couldn’t, because he was underage in the Muggle world. And though he wouldn’t be hunted down quite like he was now, he would still be considered second-class. It didn’t matter which world he was in.

***

Millicent clung to Pansy for seven years. Pansy meant safety, recognition, and belonging. When Pansy announced that she was moving to France, Millicent could have sworn her heart stopped. She couldn’t go to France with Pansy, and she was almost sure that Pansy didn’t want her to. She said goodbye and realized abruptly that she only had one other friend, Daphne, who was incredibly busy these days.

She tried making new friends, but no one wanted to associate with Millicent Bulstrode whose whole family was imprisoned for crimes against Muggle borns. So she did the only thing she could do. She moved to Spain.

***

Greg had never told anyone that he was gay. He never had anyone to tell, really. Maybe Draco, but Draco didn’t talk to him much after the war, and before the war, it would have been unthinkable. His parents were out of the question, of course. They were far too old-fashioned about this kind of thing.

Instead, he got a job in Diagon Alley, working in Potage’s Cauldron Shop and watching the people come and go. He rarely got to know them, but he liked his boss, and he enjoyed his newfound freedom from wars and Dark Lords. His boss was smart and very kind. He had been the only person willing to hire Gregory Goyle with his family and personal history of violence. Greg almost told him that he was gay. Not because he fancied him, he was far too old, but because he thought it would be nice to tell someone. But in the end, he didn’t. Doing things for himself was too hard, too complicated. So he just stayed where he was and watched the people come and go, never connecting, but never trying to either.


	32. Victor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a person who has overcome or defeated an adversary; conqueror; a winner in any struggle or contest

Padma refused to think of herself as having lost anything. She was a war hero, not some helpless victim. She and her sister had survived, and that was more important than any injuries they sustained.

When she heard that a number of authors were collaborating to write a book about the Second Wizarding War, she shouldered her way in unapologetically. They didn’t ask her to apologize either. An insider perspective, they said, would be invaluable. Padma agreed. None of the others had fought in the battle, had seen friends fighting and dying and Hogwarts crumbling. They hadn’t been tortured in class. But she didn’t want to just be a source. She wanted to help write.

After all, history was written by the winners. And whether the price had been an arm, a leg, a life, or an eye, they had won. She had won. And she damn well intended to let the world know.

***

Theodore avoided eye contact with everyone as he walked into the Great Hall. It was emptier now than it had been when he first arrived and went to find Lucy. Now Lucy and Quisilla were talking upstairs in the Hospital Wing, and Theodore was free to walk down the row of dead Death Eaters. He recognized a face here and there, but he didn’t stop walking until he was about two thirds of the way down the row. He looked down at his father’s body, at his still face and matted hair.

And he felt nothing.

He had never been exactly close to his father, at least not since his mother had died. But he had expected to feel some kind of grief over his death. He supposed there was some sense of regret, but in the end…this was war. His father had been on the wrong side, the losing side, both in one. And this was what happened. Theodore wished his father hadn’t been a Death Eater, hadn’t cared about the Dark Lord or Muggle borns or any of it. But he had, and this was the consequence. Theodore had been on the winning side (sort of), and his father had lost. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t nice. But in the end, it was right.

“Hm.” He walked away.

***

Michael Corner had never liked losing. This could have negative consequences, like when he lost. But it also had the positive effect of making him more likely to win. He worked hard not only to do his best, but also to ensure that he didn’t lose.

And because he was very smart, it usually worked. But the stakes were higher than ever in seventh year. Losing a practice duel in training wasn’t the end of the world, but if it were a real duel, it would be. Perhaps that was why he got as frustrated as he did. Or perhaps that was just his nature.

Either way, he ended up sulking after a meeting in late October. Terry and Anthony had gone on ahead, leaving Michael walking back up to the tower with Lisa.

“You know,” Lisa began.

“I’m not interested.”

“Yes, you are. Because you’re a damn good fighter, Corner. But you’re not perfect. And you’ve had nowhere near as much training as I have. So yeah. I’ll kick your ass. Get over it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“No, actually.”

Michael looked up at her.

“Actually, I spent the first year of tae kwon do learning to lose gracefully. I was worse than you at first. It takes time, but Corner…we don’t have time. So get over yourself, quit sulking, and face me again next time. And you’re still going to get your ass kicked, but every time, you’ll get better. And maybe, just maybe, someday you’ll hit a stroke of luck and beat me. It could happen. Got it?”

“Got it.”

***

Julian’s goal in this war was not offensive, it was defensive. He didn’t care about killing Death Eaters. He didn’t care about revenge. His only purpose in fighting this battle was to prevent others from dying. To save lives. Maybe it was naïve or stupid of him, but there it was.

So when a masked Death Eater aimed a reductor curse at a pillar that was the last thing holding the ceiling over the heads of a small group of students, Julian didn’t hesitate a moment before jumping in front of it. It was the best and only option at that point.

Later, Anne Summers said that he had been smiling when the curse hit him.

“Smiling. Really, he was. It wasn’t…it wasn’t like he was laughing in the face of death or anything. I saw some of that too, and this wasn’t it. He was just…happy. Like he’d done exactly what he’d meant to. Like he’d won.”


	33. Messiah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> any expected deliverer; a zealous leader of some cause or project

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE I AM SORRY  
> Writing these three is always so hard. I don't know how to write main characters in this way. But here it is!

Lavender had always known Ron was better than everyone else thought. Well, maybe not always. But the fact was, even when most people saw him as Harry’s sidekick, she saw him as a hero in his own right. Then there was sixth year and their relationship and its really terrible conclusion.

But looking at him now, Lavender felt perfectly justified in a feeling of “I told you so,” though she didn’t actually say it to anyone. Maybe she’d bring it up with Parvati later.

The battle had ended two days ago, and there was still a lot of chaos and confusion. Lavender was still in the Hospital Wing. And there was Ron Weasley, visiting the wounded because someone had asked him to. She smiled slightly, though smiling still hurt. When he made his way over to her, looking nervous and embarrassed and a little too sympathetic for her tastes, she continued to smile at him.

“Er…hi, Lavender. How are you feeling?”

“Better than I was,” she said, “I’ll have the scars forever, but that doesn’t actually bother me as much as I thought it would.”

“Right…er…you know my brother, Bill, he was attacked by Greyback too last year. If you like, I could ask him to come talk to you?”

Lavender agreed, and Ron moved on rather hastily to the next person. She watched him go. Her hero, she thought sardonically. But underneath, there was a hint of pride. Her hero indeed.

***

Hermione had planned to visit the library to see if it was damaged and how badly, and if it wasn’t damaged, to relax before going back to work on restoring…well, the Wizarding World. It was exhausting work, and Ron had urged her to take a break, so library it was.

The library had been far enough from most of the fighting to sustain minimal damages. A few shelves had been knocked over, but Madam Pince had apparently been in to fix things up. Hermione was about to find a book and sit down when someone called her name. She turned around and saw Mr. Weasley walking toward her.

“Hermione, there you are. Excellent.”

“Hello, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione said, trying not to sound as tired as she felt. But he probably saw through it.

“I wonder if I could have a quick word? No bad news,” he added hastily.

“Alright,” she said curiously.

“I wanted to thank you,” Mr. Weasley said seriously, “For taking care of Harry and Ron. I know you all took care of each other, so perhaps I shouldn’t single you out like this. But knowing you were with them, knowing you’ve been with them all these years, has been a great comfort to me, and to Molly.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, nonplussed, “I…you don’t need to thank me for that, Mr. Weasley.”

“Harry and Ron are wonderful boys, wonderful men I suppose. But I’m so glad they have you for a friend. They couldn’t have done any of it without you, you know.”

Hermione smiled slightly. “I know. But I couldn’t have done any of it without them either. And like you said, we took care of each other.”

“And I’m grateful to the boys too for that,” Mr. Weasley said fondly, “Now, I’ll let you take your well-deserved break.”

Hermione smiled again. “Thank you, Mr. Weasley. And really, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Mr. Weasley turned away. _No doubt you would._

***

The whole story took a long time to explain properly, and in the end there were some bits that they decided not to share at all. Some things belonged only to the three of them. But Ron did tell his family about running out. He told Percy before he told any of the rest of them. For obvious reasons. Ginny was, predictably, angry at first. But she came around quickly enough, particularly when Harry went into more detail about Ron’s heroic return.

The Hallows and Horcruxes took a lot of explaining, both privately to their friends, and publicly because the Wizarding World deserved to know why these terrible things had happened to them, to their friends and families. Not that all of it was immediately believed, but it was indisputable fact that Harry Potter had defeated Lord Voldemort. So the rest followed.

And meanwhile, as the magical community rebuilt itself, the survivors of the battle sought out Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They worked their way through the masses of mourners and celebrations like some kind of priests offering benediction, confession, and healing. It didn’t make much sense to them, but the point was that people seemed to feel better after talking to them, so what else could they do?

It was a bit of a blur to Harry. He was still exhausted, and he couldn’t keep track of every person he spoke to. He remembered some very well later and others not at all. Dennis Creevey’s face stood out clearly in his mind, tearful and devastated, but clear of accusation and full of pride for his brother and gratitude for Harry.

He had never really spoken to Lisa Turpin before, but he would remember that punch in the face for the rest of his life. As well as the apologies that followed from her friends (immediately) and her (much later).

His own tears and anger and grief waited until he was alone with those closest to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! And that concludes this portion of this thing! Wow. That was something.  
> Now I can move on to other things! I have soooo much left to talk about in this fic, so don't worry. There's more to come.  
> SPEAKING OF MORE:  
> I now have an art blog. The url is q-loves-you-draws and you can see a bunch of my drawings there, some of which are/will be of this fic!


	34. Cohabitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Problems always arise when groups of people are forced to live together. Here are a few.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it seems like production in this fic is slowing down lately, but there should be a chapter on Christmas, and I have no intention of stopping this fic. Inspiration may come and go, but I have so many headcanons, there should be enough material to keep this going for a looong time.

“So you’re moving in with us then?” Theo said blandly as he and Blaise walked down the hall.

“I suppose so. Mother’s rich, but we actually do have a two-person house rather than a manor for two people.”

Theo ignored that. It wasn’t like he chose to live in this stupid manor. “Well, you can have your pick of bedrooms. You might want one far away from mine though.”

“Why’s that?”

“I have a pet snake.”

Blaise’s footsteps faltered. Theo kept walking. “Right.”

It was supposed to be a secret that Blaise was afraid of snakes. It was a bit ridiculous after all. A Slytherin afraid of snakes. He managed for the most part, since there was only so much you could see a snake motif before growing accustomed to it. But Theo had apparently figured it out somehow. Blaise had never been more grateful for Theo’s apathy, since he was pretty sure that was what had prevented him from telling anyone else.

But now he was going to live in a house with a pet snake in it. A small one, Theo assured him, but that didn’t really help.

 

The wedding was fairly small in the end, though Theo’s father and Blaise’s mother both would have preferred something more extravagant. The war was taking up much of Theo’s father’s time, and his own wedding was hardly going to take precedence over the Dark Lord’s orders. So it was short and…well not sweet exactly, but short. That at least was sweet enough for Theo, who wanted nothing to do with any of it.

Theo didn’t like having Blaise living with him year-round. If he’d had a little more time and a little more motivation, he would have moved out on his own over the summer before seventh year. As it was, he mostly stayed in his room and occasionally threatened Blaise with his pet snake when Blaise was particularly annoying.

Not that he _disliked_ Blaise. Blaise was probably the closest thing to a best friend he had, as a matter of fact. Well, Lucy might be closer at this point, but she had Quisilla. No, the problem was that Blaise was so…there. Theo liked his space. He liked withdrawing from people to knit or read, and Blaise seemed weirdly determined to keep him from doing that.

Theo moved out after the war, confident that he wouldn’t be missed, not terribly bothered that the manor and a good portion of his father’s fortune had gone to his wife instead of his son. He had plenty left for himself anyway, and he wasn’t particularly sentimental.

***

Kevin had _seen things_ , okay? He considered himself pretty tough, and he had an insatiable curiosity about anything and everything, particularly magic. But even he hadn’t wanted to see some of the things he’d seen. He was a changed man with a new and horrifying perspective of the world.

Morag thought he was being just a bit dramatic.

“You don’t understand, Morag. You couldn’t possibly understand.”

“I could.”

“But you don’t.”

“Alright, I guess I don’t. She’s pretty discreet. But really, Kevin, it can’t be that bad.”

“Ask Terry or Anthony. Don’t ask Mike, he’s just as bad. But Stephen’s my best guy friend. He…I don’t need to know this shit, Morag! There’s a lot of shit I need to know, but it’s not this!”

“Then just don’t pay any attention.”

“You try not paying attention when he’s stripping off his shirt, and there are claw marks down his back!”

“Oh, gross! Kevin, not in the common room!”

“I don’t think he even knows they’re there,” Kevin continued, “He just forgets about them somehow. I don’t know how he could forget about them, ‘cause I’m pretty sure they broke skin. And the bruises. God, Morag, they’re insane. Our friends are depraved kinky sex fiends. We’ve created a monster. It has to stop.”

“Oh, grow up,” Morag said, swatting him over the head, “We’re not breaking them up because you can’t handle signs that they’re sexually active. Besides, you’re just over-observing again. Tune it out.”

“I found handcuffs in his nightstand, Morag. I don’t even know how he got handcuffs!”

“What the hell were you doing rummaging through his nightstand?”

Kevin blinked at her. “Looking for my quill.”

“Why the hell would your quill be in his nightstand?”

“Well, it wasn’t in his trunk.”

***

“Good King Wenceslas last looked out on the Feast of Stephen, when the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even.” Julian sang to himself as he scrubbed his scalp.

“BRIGHTLY SHONE THE MOON THAT-”

“Oh my god, no.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, HOPKINS.”

Julian fell silent as Wayne dissolved into laughter in the shower next to his. Justin and Zacharias were at the sinks, getting ready for bed. Ernie was probably half-asleep already, or at least he probably had been before Wayne started singing.

“Please continue, Julian,” Justin said politely, “Wayne, if you do that again, I will not stop Zacharias from murdering you.”

***

“Where’s the bathroom?”

The boys looked at Lavender and Parvati blankly.

Parvati looked disgusted. “Do you really not have a bathroom? You’ve been in here for a _week_ , Neville!”

“We just add one whenever we need it!” Seamus said.

“No wonder it smells so terrible in here,” Lavender said, “Have you bathed at all?”

“Well…” Michael said sheepishly, “I’ve only been here three days.”

Parvati shook her head. “You’re all hopeless. We need a bathroom, complete with showers, permanently and immediately.”

A door appeared in the wall to her right.

“Neville, in!” Lavender commanded, and their fearless leader went to take his shower, looking thoroughly chastised.


	35. Triptych 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I didn't update for five months and then I come back with this.

They were together because they worked best as a team. Any one of them individually could have helped on the grounds or from the towers, but together they would hold the Entrance Hall as long as possible. Terry had no illusions about holding it forever, not against this number of Death Eaters. But they would fight to the end. He glanced left and right at Mike and Anthony as the bangs and shouts drew nearer.

“We need to spread out,” Terry said reluctantly, and they did.

“Remember everything we learned,” Mike said, “Which is an awful lot.”

“Have each other’s backs. But don’t forget your own,” said Tony.

“Same to you,” Mike shot back.

“Fight to the end,” Terry said, “So we need to stay alive to the end.”

The doors shuddered, and there was another scream, much closer this time. Terry, Mike, and Anthony stared at the doors. Any minute now.

They burst open, sending a student flying in with them. Three Death Eaters entered, wands raised, and two fell to stunning spells. The third had a shield charm up just in time and retaliated with a jet of green light aimed at Mike. He rolled out of the way as three more Death Eaters and two students ran up the steps. Terry didn’t let himself think about who they were, about why they were here instead of fighting in the grounds. The battle had started, and all there was to do was fight. _Protego. Expelliarmus. Stupefy._ Mike. _Petrificus Totalus. Dodge, turn. Stupefy._ Tony. _Cover. Stupefy. Duck._

Terry had only a moment to register Tony’s shout and the wand pointed at the balcony over his head. He ran, raising a hasty shield against any surprise attacks. A large chunk of the balcony fell behind him, sending debris and Terry flying. He landed hard on the flagstone floor, scraping his hands, but keeping a tight grip on his wand. Terry rolled and stood up, sharp blue eyes assessing quickly. He stunned the Death Eater backing Tony into a corner, but there was another scream from outside and five more Death Eaters burst into the hall. It was eight against three, the other students dead, unconscious, or run off to some other part of the battle.

Time for a strategic retreat up the marble staircase. Well, more desperate than strategic, Terry thought grimly. He, Mike, and Tony backed slowly up the stairs, but more people were filling up the Entrance Hall. It was no longer eight against three but a chaotic mess of opponents and allies rising and falling.

Terry ducked again and a curse flew over his head, cracking the stair above him. The Death Eaters were gaining ground, but slowly. Then a jumble of loud clanks behind him announced the arrival of about a dozen animated suits of armor. Terry allowed himself a second to feel relieved as curses bounced ineffectively off of breastplates. They had gained back about half the staircase by the time the Death Eaters figured out how to break or immobilize the suits of armor. As Terry dodged a stray gauntlet, he heard Mike yell.

A mace went flying far too close to his face to be an accident. Before Terry could figure out who was flinging a mace around, his attention was diverted to the two Death Eaters advancing on him. When a well-timed stunner finally took one of them down, there were still swords and the occasional spear flying through the air. Most of them seemed to be aiming for Mike, who was keeping up with the string of curses and weapons with some difficulty. Terry aimed a full body bind at the Death Eater he thought was responsible for the attack of medieval weaponry, but it was thrown off course when a sword flew through the air and slashed his right side.

There was no time to think about it. He dodged another jet of light. He’d had worse from the Carrows. He stunned another Death Eater. It wasn’t that deep. He kept duelling, but he pressed his right hand to his side. Pressure was important, wasn’t it? He was bleeding rather a lot. Another Death Eater joined his fight, maybe sensing weakness. Terry glared. He wasn’t weak. He kept fighting and bleeding until there was a brief moment of respite, which he used to stop as much of the bleeding as he could. He was no healer, but he had picked up a few things at least. He tried to fight his way closer to Tony. If they could just get away for a moment. He just needed a moment to heal. He just needed - 

“TONY!”

Mike’s scream was worse than any curse Terry had faced so far. He needed to turn around and look and see, but there were spells and curses to dodge and counter, and he had to stop them. Mike was shouting something behind him, but he couldn’t hear the words over the blank panic and the stream of spells in his mind. Finally he knocked out the last two Death Eaters in front of him and turned, even as Mike turned to unleash his fury on the Death Eaters on the stairs below. Tony was lying on the floor, his face to the trembling ceiling above. His eyes were open and unseeing and unmistakably dead.

Terry sank to his knees silently beside Tony. Beside Tony’s body. He could hear Mike behind him, still screaming, and the castle shook again as he blew something up in his grief and rage. That someone could do this to Tony, could take Tony from them as if the world could still keep moving without him. But the world was still moving, and there would be time for grief later, Terry realized suddenly, and hated himself for it. Time for grief when the battle was over. And Mike’s anger was devastating for now, but it would wear him out too soon. He closed Tony’s eyes because some things had to be done.

Then he stood up, aware of the pain in his side, but that didn’t matter anymore. He stared at the destruction Mike had wrought. Death Eaters were lying everywhere, dead or unconscious or wounded, but there were still more, and they were waking the unconscious ones. Terry took Mike’s left hand in his own blood-slicked right. _Sentimental_ , a voice in the back of Terry’s head that sounded a lot like his father said. But sentiment mattered. It mattered because Tony was dead, and where Terry retreated to his logic and his detachment, Mike used his emotions, and they needed any weapon they could get. Both of them were dangerous right now, but together…. The Death Eaters coming up the stairs slowed slightly, as if they could sense the danger ahead of them.

_Smart_ , Terry thought, _But I’m smarter_. And the battle continued.

***

Until it didn’t.

Voldemort had called off his Death Eaters with an ultimatum for Harry, and there was no one to fight for another hour. They had an hour to regroup, and they had to use it. But they also had to collect the dead, and Terry was good at ignoring his emotions, but he didn’t know how long that would last now. Now that he and Mike were silently carrying Tony into the Great Hall. Not Tony. Tony’s body.

Mike was crying, Terry realized. Mike was crying and Terry wasn’t, and Terry felt somehow like this was a failure. Which was stupid, because if anything was the failure it was that he didn’t see in time. One little wound and he didn’t see Tony dying, didn’t help, didn’t stop it. They laid Tony down with the rest of the dead, and Terry stood up immediately. He didn’t want to stay here, didn’t want to face Mike’s grief or Tony’s non-presence. They had to regroup, to strategize. There would be more fighting, and they had to be ready.

“Terry?” Terry blinked. Mike was there in front of him.

“Mike.”

“C’mon, you should get that healed,” Mike said thickly, nodding at Terry’s side, which was still bleeding sluggishly despite Terry’s hasty attempts to stop it.

“I...yeah. I should.” He was leaning forward for some reason. He hadn’t decided to. His knees gave way, but Mike caught him.

“Woah. Okay. You’ve lost a lot of blood, I think. Come on.”

“‘M’fine,” Terry said as Mike helped him walk in the general direction of Madam Pomfrey.

Mike sniffed. “Sure you are,” he said heavily. And he was crying again, but still walking, still supporting Terry’s arm over his shoulders until they sat down at last. Then Terry’s arm over his shoulders became the support instead. Mike cried for a long time. Terry kept his arm around him even as he let someone patch him up. He waved them away when they turned to Mike. They didn’t need words from other people now. They didn’t need words. For the moment, nothing mattered but the two of them. And the three of them. What they had been and the terrifying unknown of what they would become now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I honestly am sorry about this one. Next chapter will be better I hope! Anthony, you deserved so much better. I mean, the same is true of most characters in this fic to be honest. But here we are anyway.
> 
> Sorry about the long wait! I got distracted, busy, uninspired, etc. and then I decided this would be the next chapter and that was really hard to write.


	36. Christmas 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a glimpse at the Christmas after the war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaaaaaaack

It had been less than a year since the Battle of Hogwarts, less than a year since terror and pain and death and Voldemort. And it was Christmas.

Lavender usually went home for Christmas, had done so every year except for her fourth at Hogwarts. This year, she didn’t think she could face it. And besides, someone had to stay at Hogwarts with the younger students who didn’t or couldn’t go home. Neville was going home to see his gran now that they got along so much better, and Lavender was sure that Dean and Seamus would be going home to their families, or more likely just to Dean’s family. She hoped Parvati and Padma would go home and see their mother, though she was starting to suspect that Parvati was going to stay at Hogwarts to keep her company, for which she was grateful.

It was hard sometimes when the small, snide voice in her head started trying to compare her problems to her friends’. Her family was alive and well. She was horribly scarred, but relatively speaking...well, she had all her limbs and both eyes and less emotional scarring than many members of the DA.

But none of that changed the fact that she could no longer speak to her own mother. She wanted to, but every time she tried, it ended with Lavender defiant and hurt and her mother confused and concerned. It was exhausting.

So for Christmas, Lavender was staying at Hogwarts.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave?”

Padma looked at her blankly. “No. Mum’s in India, so Parvati and I are staying here.”

“What?”

“Did Parvati not tell you? We decided for sure yesterday.”

“No, she didn’t! That’s...I’m sorry you can’t go home for the holidays, but I’m so glad you’ll be here.”

Padma grinned. “Me too. But Dean and Seamus staying too?”

“I...they haven’t said. I thought they’d be going home. Dean’s family didn’t get to see him last Christmas or all last year, and Seamus...well, he goes where Dean goes now, doesn’t he?”

“Well, Su said she was looking forward to spending Christmas with those two, and she’s staying, so…”

“That....you...you’re all terrible!”

“What?”

“Here I was thinking I’d be here alone for Christmas and you were all planning on staying?”

Padma rolled her eye. “As if we’d leave you alone on Christmas anyway. If we hadn’t stayed, you’d be coming with us.”

***

“You’re sure about this, Dean? Your family hasn’t seen you for months after not seeing you for months.”

“Yes, I’m sure. And...it’s selfish, but this is where I want to be, and this is who I want to be with.”

Seamus leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Doesn’t seem selfish to me. But even if it was, you deserve to think about yourself for a bit.”

Dean really didn’t have a response for that.

***

“It’s just that...Mei, you know I’d do anything for you, but I think I’m needed here too. You and dad have each other, and all our relatives, and Seamus and Dean just...they need something. Someone. And I don’t know if that’s me, but I think I need them too anyway, and what if it is?

“Su. It’s okay.”

“It is?”

Mei nodded. “Christmas is for spending with loved ones, and you have a lot of those now. And you’re right that they need you. Not that I don’t or dad doesn’t, but I think right now, they need you more. So stay. We’ll be alright.”

Su hugged her sister tightly. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too, now go be with your boyfriends.”

“They’re very much not my boyfriends.”

Mei rolled her eyes. “Right. I forgot.”

“Shut up.”

***

Theo was not in the mood for Christmas. He had never been the most festive person, and those who had brought out his more cheerful side (such as it was) were either dead or busy spending Christmas with people they cared about more than they cared about him. Which was fair. He couldn’t fault Blaise for spending Christmas with his mother or Lucy for being with her mother or Quisilla or whoever she was with now.

And besides, he wasn’t in the mood.

Of course, the universe had never particularly cared for Theo’s moods, so he was only slightly surprised when someone knocked on his door. He kept knitting and hoped that whoever it was would just go away.

They didn’t.

“THEODORE NOTT!”

It was Lucy.

“Fuck off!” he shouted back.

“Wow, okay, see if we share this firewhiskey with you then,” came Quisilla’s voice.

Theo paused in his knitting. The chances of Lucy and Quisilla giving up and going away were slim, and firewhiskey was tempting. He sighed and stood up, carefully stowing away his knitting.

“What,” he said as he opened the door.

“We’re here for Christmas,” Lucy said, “Move.”

Theo stepped aside to allow both girls over the threshold and shut the door behind them.

“And you decided to spend Christmas here of all places because…?”

“You’re lonely and bitter and a good drinker,” Quisilla said frankly.

“Which is what one always looks for in a host, I’m sure.”

They ignored him as Lucy summoned up three glasses and Quisilla opened the bottle of firewhiskey.

“Cheers.”

Two hours and about half a bottle of firewhiskey later, the three of them were sitting around Theo’s kitchen table at varying levels of drunk.

“Theo,” Quisilla said at a lull in the conversation, “Why were you planning on spending Christmas sad and alone?”

Theo shrugged. “Wasn’t feeling like Christmas. Why’d you plan on spending Christmas with me?”

“Better than you spending it sad and alone. Look, Theo, you’ve been pretty miserable lately. We’ve noticed. Blaise noticed. And I know you and your dad didn’t have the best relationship, but he was still-”

“It’s not about him.”

“Then what?”

“If it’s about me and my dumb legs, I’ll kick your ass,” Lucy said.

“It’s not about you. I have had appromixlately four friends in my life, right? Two are you. One’s my stupid step-brother through my dead asshole father and his gold-digger mum, and one’s dead. Who the fuck am I supposed to knit for?” His voice cracked and he leaned his head on his hands.

A few moments of stunned silence followed this outburst.

“Who died?” Lucy asked finally.

Theo shook his head.

“Theo, we’ve known you for almost eight years, and you’ve never mentioned a friend outside of our house, and as far as I know the only one of us who died was Crabbe, and I don’t think you were friends with Crabbe.”

“Crabbe was an idiot.”

“So who died?”

Theo sighed. “Their name was Sophie Roper, and they were in Hufflepuff. Now they’re dead because they were a better person than any of us and fought in that stupid battle instead of getting the fuck away.”

“You’ve never mentioned them before,” Quisilla said softly.

“No, I haven’t.”

Lucy hesitated. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Theo muttered.

“Still.”

“Thanks.”

“So…” Quisilla said slowly, “You knit?”

“Yeah,” Theo said reluctantly, “Have you seen the number of blankets in this flat?”

“You made all of these?” Lucy asked, impressed.

“Yeah. I get cold.”

Quisilla waved her wand and summoned a few of the nicer blankets from the living room. “These are beautiful, Theo. And if you want someone to knit for, you can knit for us any time.”

“Cheers,” said Lucy.

“To friends who knit for us.” added Quisilla.

“To friends to knit for.”

“To Sophie Roper.”

“To Sophie.”

“And a Merry Christmas,” said Lucy, and drained the rest of her drink.

“Christmas,” Theo echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to publish this for Christmas itself, but looking at how sad it got, maybe it's for the best I didn't? Anyway we're still in the 12 days of Christmas, so that counts.
> 
> Hope you all had a lovely holiday or 25 December and have a Happy New Year!

**Author's Note:**

> Tada! Let me know what you thought and any suggestions on what characters you want to see next!


End file.
